Where Does It Hurt
by sourxwolf
Summary: The ability to trust is an ability Rachel lost a long time ago and Quinn's determined to be the one who changes that.
1. Voice

**Title**: Where Does It Hurt

**Author**: frankybadass

**Pairing(s)**: _Rachel/Quinn_. Mentions of: Quinn/Finn, Santana/Brittany, possibly Santana/Quinn.

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Glee or any of its characters, nor do I own any restaurants, food products, music, etc. that may be mentioned.

**Summary**: The ability to trust is an ability Rachel lost a long time ago and Quinn's determined to be the one who changes that.

* * *

William McKinley High School is not what she expects it to be. She expects the students to be boring and the classes to be even more boring, but her classmates are far more interesting than her classmates back in New York and the classes aren't all that boring because her classmates are so interesting.

Take, for instance, this one boy that is in her Civics/Government class. Finn, she remembers. He either enjoys being seen as a complete idiot or really is dumber than a stack of bricks. He's so dumb, though, that it's almost... endearing. She finds that interesting.

Then there's Kurt, this boy (she swears he's a girl when she first sees him) who acts more like a diva than her dramatic little sister. Her dads would love him, if he weren't such a snob; though, Dad would surely set him straight.

There's a few others - Brittany, Santana, Puck, and Tina. Brittany is a cheerleader, who Rachel thinks is even more dumb than Finn; she's cute, though, which makes up for it. Santana, too, is a cheerleader - she's not dumb; she's smart, actually, but she seems a bit like a cold bitch. Puck is clearly a womanizing asshole; Rachel makes a mental note to steer clear of him. And then there's Tina - she's quiet, but sweet.

When lunch time rolls around, Rachel isn't sure where to sit; she spots Sam seated at a table with a few familiar faces from today and a few unfamiliar ones. She contemplates approaching him, but decides against it because she _did _make a mental note to steer clear of Puck and he's sitting there, so...

This is what Rachel has been reduced to, the girl eating alone in a bathroom stall.

The alone part, she's used to. Mostly, anyway. She has her family, but she hasn't had any friends, not since... well, not for a very long time. She has Sam now, of course, who she met this past summer after her family moved in next door to his; he's the closest thing she has to a friend, but she doesn't act like much of a friend towards him. She can't _really _talk to him, never about the things that haunt her every day, and she can't say that she trusts him. It's not his fault, it's _not_; it's just... the ability to trust isn't an ability she possesses much of anymore.

That's something that, sadly, is likely to never change.

* * *

"Oh, come on," Quinn groans under her breath when Sue announces that the Cheerios have to be at practice an hour early the following morning. All because Tiffany decided she wanted to fall off the top of the pyramid. Probably isn't all the redhead's fault, but still, Quinn's peeved.

"Good going, Tiff," Quinn snaps as she walks past the girl. Santana and Brittany immediately fall into step on both sides of her. "You're back on bottom!" she shouts over her shoulder.

"That's what she said," Santana teases as they head into the girl's locker room.

"What who said?" Brittany asks.

If it were anyone but Brittany, Quinn would ask if she were serious, but this is Brittany and she isn't the brightest girl in the world, so, she just smiles at her friend and says, "No one, Britt."

It doesn't take long for Brittany and Santana to finish their (read: joint) shower, leaving Quinn alone in the Cheerio's locker room. She's momentarily startled when the door opens again, but she ignores it, thinking that another one of the Cheerios must have decided to stay behind and shower. Probably Tiffany. She rolls her eyes at the thought of the girl; Tiffany is a great cheerleader, but she's sloppy - Quinn has no clue why Sue puts up with her.

Her thoughts are interrupted not long after the shower opposite hers starts running. It's not the water running that captures her attention; it's the voice. Whoever is in the shower opposite hers is singing and she knows it's not Tiffany because when Tiffany sings, it sounds as though there's a frog lodged in her throat.

This voice... it's Angelic. Magical. It's more than that, though... it's indescribable. She shuts her shower off and steps out of the shower, immediately grabbing a towel and wrapping it around her body. She steps a little closer to the shower so she can hear more clearly what the girl is singing; she kind of feels like a creeper and wonders if this is how Mr. Schue felt when he discovered Finn in the boy's locker room.

She knows this probably is a little creepy, but she can't turn away, can't even make herself move.

She doesn't know what the mystery girl is singing; probably Broadway because that's what it sounds like. She decides then that this girl has to be part of the glee club. As co-captain, she needs to make this happen; glee needs someone like whoever this girl is. Her voice will win them Sectionals and Regionals and take them to Nationals this year; Quinn's sure of it.

She hurriedly dries off and throws her Cheerio's uniform back on. She makes her way outside with her duffel bag; decides to hide out there and wait until the girl walks out so she can see who it is. She doesn't merely think this is creepy, she _knows _it, but she doesn't particularly care, not right now. This girl is the glee club's meal ticket and she's determined to know who she is.

She's not sure how long she's been waiting when she spots a petite brunette exiting the locker room. The air is _literally _knocked out of Quinn when she catches a glimpse of the girl's face. Silky brunette tresses, eyes the color of chocolate, tanned skin. She catches sight of the girl's legs and is unable to tear her gaze away; how can someone so short have legs _that long_? They seem to go on forever.

She does her best to engrave the girl's face in her mind; it's not hard. She couldn't get that face or that body or that voice out of her mind even if she wanted to, and she most certainly does not want to.

_Tomorrow_. She will talk to this girl tomorrow and find out who she is; she doesn't care what she has to do - one way or another, this new girl will be part of glee.

And an even bigger part of Quinn's life.

Maybe, of course. She doesn't want to get _too_ ahead of herself.

* * *

**author's note**: so, hi! yes, i'm actually writing a faberry story, but i can't resist - this idea popped into my head and i have to at least give it a shot. in case it isn't already obvious, this story will be completely out of character. _completely_. for the sake of my story, all of the glee kids are seniors. i'm going to fill you in on a few things: quinn and finn are the captains of glee, rachel is the new girl, quinn is one hundred percent gay, and sam and rachel spent the entire summer together. _babygate never happened_, meaning quinn never got kicked off the cheerios, which is why she's captain.

certain issues may be mentioned, most involving abuse of some sort, so, just a warning.

i'm not sure where i'm going with this as of yet - this story is nowhere near a done deal. i could decide to delete it. so, try not to get too attached if, for whatever reason, you like this opening.


	2. Audition

Quinn walks down the hall with her head held high, sending glares every which way whenever she feels eyes on her. She's in full HBIC mode; right now, she's not even doing so because she _has _to, she's doing so because she's actually frustrated. _Severely _frustrated.

She failed to receive a sufficient amount of sleep the previous night, was woken not even two hours after _finally _falling completely asleep, had to deal with Tiffany and Sue at an ungodly hour, and to top it all off, it's already lunch time and she's yet to find her mystery girl. Okay, well, the girl isn't _hers_, but...

She heaves a frustrated sigh, seating herself beside Santana at the Cheerio's table.

"What crawled up your ass and died?" Santana asks.

Quinn opens her mouth to speak, but is cut off by Brittany saying, "Something crawled up her ass? Oh my gosh, Q, you need to go to the doctor. That could be like, deadly, right?"

Quinn flashes her friend a 'what-the-fuck' look, but doesn't question her; Santana, on the other hand, just looks at her lovingly before once again focusing her attention on Quinn. Their cuteness seriously makes Quinn sick. They're disgusting.

"I'm fine, Britt," she assures the other blonde before looking at Santana again, "and nothing crawled up my ass, San. I'm just not having the best of days, is all."

"Can't find your mystery girl?"

"It's not like this school is _that_ big," is Quinn's only response.

"I think I can help you out," Santana says, directing Quinn's attention to the football table by pointing her finger in that direction. "She's with the boys, and from the looks of it, she needs some savin'."

Quinn's gaze follows Santana's index finger and lands on the football table; well, not really the table, but the girl seated there. She thinks for a moment that Santana is exaggerating when she says this girl needs to be saved, but one look at the petite brunette is proof that she's not. The girl, whoever she is, looks terribly uncomfortable. She can understand why, of course - the girl's hot, so she's probably been talked up by every guy at that table, even the ones who _have _girlfriends.

She's tempted to go over there, but when she starts to stand up, she finds herself falling back into her chair. She's not shy; the word isn't even in her vocabulary, but something about this girl makes her nervous. Extremely so.

Which is weird because shy, nervous, and insecure are words that don't describe her. Not to say that she's completely confident in everything she does (what person is, really?) because she isn't, but she knows who she is and she accepts herself and she'll be damned if she lets other people get under her skin in a bad way.

"What are you waiting for?" Santana's question drags her out of her thoughts. "Newbie needs to be saved. Go save her."

She huffs, but doesn't argue. She's Quinn Fucking Fabray and she owns this school. If she starts acting shy now, her abilities as a leader will be questioned and she can't have that.

* * *

Awkward. Uncomfortable. Those are truly the only two words that can describe how Rachel is feeling.

For one, she's seated directly across from Puck, whose name she has learned is actually Noah. Any normal teenage girl would probably be thrilled to have him flirting with her, but she's far from what one would consider normal. Or so, that's what she believes.

Why she let Sam talk her into this, she has no idea. She reminds herself that he's just being a friend by not allowing her to eat alone; that's what she loves about Sam, he's so nice, but at the moment, she almost wishes he were exactly like half of the boys she's sitting with.

"Leave her be, Puck," Sam says; there's a warning in his tone. "She's not buying it. Stop trying to sell it."

Rachel bites back her laugh at his choice of words, choosing instead to send him a grateful smile.

"Dude, really?" Mike asks. "That was almost as bad as 'I'm Sam, Sam I am and I don't like Green Eggs and Ham.'"

The brunette can't bite back her laugh this time. "Oh, my. You actually said that?"

"Yes, he actually said that," an unfamiliar voice cuts in before Sam can say anything. She knows that voice doesn't belong to one of the boys.

"Quinn," Sam greets the newcomer as she squeezes in between Rachel and Mike.

She's pretty, Rachel thinks. Blonde hair, hazel eyes, porcelain skin. She's a cheerleader, too, Rachel notices. She's not sure what to think of that; the cheerleaders she's met thus far have been either dumb or bitchy. She's curious as to which category Quinn falls under.

"Evans isn't very funny," Quinn says as she focuses her gaze on Rachel, loudly enough for Sam to hear.

"I heard that!" he exclaims indignantly.

Rachel merely giggles as one of the guys say, "That was the point, dumb ass."

She focuses her attention back on Quinn when the girl extends her hand, saying, "I'm Quinn Fabray."

Rachel hesitates briefly before taking the girl's hand and shaking it. "Rachel Berry." She's not oblivious to the fact that the blonde doesn't immediately release her hand, and she can't identify the expression on Quinn's face when she finally does do so.

"So, Rachel, I was hoping I could talk to you for a moment," Quinn says after a few seconds of silence passes between them.

She raises an eyebrow at that - what could this girl possibly have to talk to her about?

As if reading her mind, Quinn says, "It's about a club that I think you'd be interested in. It'll only take a minute. I don't bite, promise."

A club she'd be interested in? She highly doubts that there is a single club in this school she'd be interested in, but she agrees to go somewhere to talk with Quinn despite that. At this point, she'd do almost anything to get away from Sam's football buddies.

X

The auditorium's nice - not too big, not too small.

Rachel and Quinn seat themselves at the foot of the stage; the brunette tries to keep a comfortable distance between them. She feels less awkward around Quinn - she knows why, of course. It's because she's not a boy and she's not flirting and she actually smells _really good_...

Okay, she has no idea where that thought came from and she's going to pretend she didn't just think that.

"So..."

"So..."

Quinn chuckles. "This is stupid. I'm just going to come out with it, okay?"

"Okay."

"I'd like you to join glee," Quinn states pointedly.

Rachel raises an eyebrow at that. "Glee? The show choir club?"

"Yeah, that's the one."

It's not a bad idea, Rachel thinks. It's not completely impossible, either. She's just confused as to why this girl is asking her to join glee. Quinn doesn't know her and can't possibly know that she sings. No one knows that she can, aside from her fathers and her sister. Not even Sam knows and he _does _know her.

"You don't even know if I can sing or not... why are you asking _me_?"

Quinn hesitates before answering, further confusing Rachel. "God, I'm going to sound like such a creep, but... I heard you singing in the Cheerio's locker room yesterday. Which, you weren't even supposed to be in there, but no worries, I won't tell Sue. Just try not to do it again because she will have your head served to her on a silver platter if she finds you in there."

"Okay," Rachel drawls. "Good to know, but uh, how did you know it was me?"

"This is the part that's going to make you think I'm a creep," Quinn starts, "but I waited for you outside. It's just that, your voice is unlike anything I've heard before and we could really use someone like you in glee. I _had_ to know who you are, because you could be my lucky charm."

"_Your _lucky charm?" She's a little amused, obviously.

She thinks she sees Quinn blush, but takes it as her eyes playing tricks on her.

"I meant our lucky charm. You know, the glee club's lucky charm," Quinn corrects herself. "What do you say? Will you audition?"

She'll admit, being a part of something would be fun. She hasn't been in a club since... she hasn't been in a club for a very long time and it'd be nice to give it a go again. It's just that, she's not much of a people person. She doesn't like being around groups of people. She prefers staying inside and reading a good book as opposed to going to the mall with the girls.

She's older now, though, and this is a new school, a new town. Maybe it's time to quit acting like the social pariah and start socializing.

"I don't see any harm in auditioning," she eventually replies.

"Great!" the blonde exclaims, flashing her a small smile. She can't decipher whether or not it's fake. "If you aren't doing anything after school, you can just audition then."

"Trust me, I'm not doing anything," Rachel says, "so I can definitely audition after school."

She smiles again and Rachel decides that her smiles are real.

"Sam's in glee, so I'm sure he can show you to the choir room," Quinn informs her as she stands up. Rachel doesn't follow suit - she's in no hurry to return to the cafeteria. "Sit with us girls tomorrow, okay?" Quinn adds before she hops off the stage.

"Okay!" Rachel yells as Quinn makes her way towards the exit. Said girl throws Rachel a smile over her shoulder before disappearing out of the brunette's sight.

"I really hope I don't regret this," Rachel mutters to herself.

* * *

She wishes Mr. Schuester would shut up and Puck better quit looking at Rachel like that or she is _so _going to kick his ass, and...

"Okay, guys," Mr. Schue's voice interrupts her thoughts again, which is probably a good thing because she was thinking up all the ways she could murder Puck with her bare hands, "it seems Quinn has found someone new for us and she's going to audition now. Rachel, why don't you come on up here."

The girl doesn't waste any time in jumping up; she's probably eager to get away from Puck. A little too eager, actually, but Quinn's not going to question her because hell, this _is _Puck she's talking about here and he's a womanizer, so, it's probably best for Rachel to already want to stay away from him. Most girls don't come to the conclusion that he's bad news until after they've jumped his bones.

She shudders at the thought. She doesn't want to think about any girl having sex with Puck. Or any girl having sex with men, in general.

"I wasn't sure of which song to perform," Rachel starts, "mainly because I've never auditioned for a glee club before. I've never really..." She pauses, and Quinn wonders if she's the only one who notices how Rachel's voice cracks before her sentence trails off. "Anyway," she eventually continues, "the song I've chosen is nothing fancy, but I think you'll all enjoy it."

Quinn doesn't recognize the song when the band starts to play. It's vaguely familiar, but she can't put her finger on it - that is, not until the first few words leave Rachel's mouth.

"_There's an empty room at the end of the hall,  
and it's begging to swallow you whole.  
Each step you take  
makes it easier to fall on your face.  
Each tear you fake  
makes it easier to see straight through you now._"

'Throwing Punches' by Paramore; it's unexpected, really. She expected to hear a Broadway song or Mariah Carey or Christina Aguilera, not Paramore, but regardless, she's captivated. And as she looks around the room, she realizes she isn't the only one, not that she's surprised.

It's impossible to not be captivated by Rachel's voice; she captures the emotion so well and the words, they pour out so beautifully from between her lips. Each and every one of her fellow glee clubbers are talented; they all have unique, beautiful voices, but Rachel... she's special. Quinn doesn't even think the girl realizes just how special she is.

"_So you hang yourself from stolen dreams.  
And under the table, you hide every stain._"

Quinn's not sure why, but something about Rachel's voice when she sings those words causes Quinn's heart to ache. There's something so raw about her. Real.

That's when she realizes she's a goner. She just met Rachel and she doesn't know her, but that doesn't change that she's a goner. This girl, she's the one that Quinn needs to know, the one that Quinn _wants to know_. The one she has to know.

Boisterous applause fills the room and her thoughts are interrupted. She joins in on the clapping, but her applause isn't as enthusiastic; she's too busy staring, too busy being entranced.

"Rachel, that was amazing!" Mr. Schue exclaims as he joins her at the front of the room. The applause has faded and Quinn is no longer in her trance.

Quinn thinks the shy smile Rachel gives him is adorable. "Thank you, Mr. Schuester."

"You can count yourself in," Mr. Schue says. "That is, if you want to."

_Please say you want to. Please._

Quinn can't hide her grin when Rachel says, "I want to."

"All right, then," Mr. Schue starts, "welcome to glee club, Rachel Berry."

* * *

**author's note**: i know this is short and not much has happened, but things will pick up next chapter... if i can write another one, that is. this took forever.

thank you for all your kind reviews, however. they're truly the only reason i decided to give this another shot.

- kara.


	3. Perfect Excuse

Surprisingly, unlike the day before, Rachel isn't eager to return home. However, she's glad she is home. Things went swimmingly after her audition; Mr. Schuester told her all about Sectionals and Regionals and Nationals and what it would take for them to get there. She thinks she'll like glee; who knows, maybe it will be good for her.

"Dad and Daddy are looking for you," her ten year old sister, Denise, says the second she enters the kitchen. Denise is sitting on the kitchen counter, swinging her legs while eating a bagel. Rachel hops up onto the counter beside her - it's their thing, really.

"What do they want?" she asks, grabbing the bagel from Denise's hand before the blonde can take another bite.

"Hey!" Denise cries, smacking Rachel's hand and grabbing the bagel back, but only after Rachel has taken a bite and smiled triumphantly at her. "I will _so _get you back for that."

"Mmhmm, sure you will," Rachel teases, grinning. "You never answered my question, you know."

Denise scoffs. "I don't know what they want, okay? Go to the living room and find out yourself."

"Fine, fine," Rachel relents, jumping down from the counter and making her way into the living room, where she spots her fathers seated side by side on the couch.

"Dad, Daddy," she starts wearily - she doesn't like the looks of this, "what's wrong?"

Her fathers look up simultaneously.

"Oh, it's nothing bad, sweetie," Daddy (Timothy) says. "We have a surprise for you. You're going to love it. Isn't she, hon?"

Dad (David) nods at Daddy before turning his attention to Rachel. "Guess how you're spending your winter break?"

She thinks for a second, clueless as to what on earth they could be talking about, but then it hits her. Her eyes widen and a huge grin breaks out on her face. "No way!" she exclaims, because _no way_ did they do this for her. "You got the tickets for Chicago? We're going to New York this winter?"

Their only response is to nod.

She squeals. It's not something she does often, but she can't help it this time. She hugs both of her fathers and kisses their cheeks, as grateful for them now as she has been for the past three years. She'll never forget the first day she met them, the day that she's convinced they saved her.

* * *

**_Three Years Earlier_**

_"Rachel, dear, could you come here for a moment." _

_Rachel started at the voice - she hated when Mrs. Granger barged in like this. It was her right, as the foster mother, but it still irked Rachel. She was always expecting someone else on the other side of the door, someone she never wanted to see again. **Two** someones she never wanted to see again. _

_"Rachel, dear, are you okay?" _

_Rachel shoved her thoughts aside. Mrs. Granger had asked her a question; she had forgotten what it was. _

_"Yes, I'm fine," she lied; she was an expert at that now. "I forgot, what did you ask me?" _

_Mrs. Granger didn't seem to buy that she was fine, but she didn't question it; knowing Rachel's past, she never did._

_"I asked if you could come here for a moment, dear," Mrs. Granger answered. "There's a couple that wants to meet you." _

_She raised an eyebrow at this. A couple wanted to meet her? Her, the eldest in this home? _

_"Uhm, sure," she replied unsurely, feeling confused, but in no place to turn down a couple that may be interested in her._

_Once she was out in the hall, she was greeted by the faces of two men; one black, one white. Well, that was unexpected; not their colors, of course, but the fact that the couple Mrs. Granger had been referring to was a gay couple. That didn't happen often here.  
_

_"You must be Rachel," the black man said. "I'm Timothy Berry." He held out his hand for her to shake. She was hesitant to take it, but after a moment, she shook his hand. _

_"And I'm David Berry, his husband," the white one introduced, also offering Rachel his hand. Again, she hesitated, but after a moment she shook his hand as well._

_"I'm Rachel," she introduced herself, though they already knew her name. She didn't give them a last name; as far as she was concerned, she didn't have one, and besides, she figured they already knew what it was, too._

_"You have a spectacular singing voice, Rachel. Beautiful," Timothy said. _

_She was surprised - no one knew she could sing. Although, she gathered that maybe wasn't as true as she thought. She tended to sing louder than was necessary whenever she was in her room; it would come of no surprise to her if people actually heard her. _

_"Thank you," she said, ducking her head to hide her blush. She wasn't used to compliments; it'd been quite a while since she'd received one. "Is that all you wanted?" she asked after she was sure her blush had faded. _

_She wasn't trying to be rude, but she wasn't much of a conversationalist these days._

_"Actually, my husband and I were thinking that our daughter, Denise, could use an older sister," David Berry started, "and we'd love it if you could be that for her." _

_She didn't understand, not at first, but after his words fully processed in her mind, she said, "You want to adopt me?" _

_"Yes, that's what we want," Timothy answered. "You'd come to live at our home for a six month trial, of course, but if all goes well, after the trial is over, we'd adopt you." _

_"And my husband and I see no reason why all wouldn't go well," David added with a reassuring smile._

_She wanted to say yes, she did, but how could she trust that? Trust was a very fragile thing and hers had been broken. More than that, it had been shattered, but one look into the eyes of these two men was enough for her. She'd seen evil, she'd been at the hands of it, and these men, they weren't it. They weren't lying; their eyes were kind and honest.  
_

_"You don't have to make a rash decision, Rachel, dear," Mrs. Granger assured her. "You can take a couple of days to think about this. I'm sure the Berry's won't mind." _

_"Of course we won't," the Berry's said in unison. _

_She shook her head. "I don't need time," she insisted. "I would love for the two of you to adopt me."_

_

* * *

_"Thank you, thank you, thank you," she says as she pulls away from them, allowing the memory to fall back into the furthest recesses of her mind. It's a good memory, a wonderful one, but the memories that lead up to that day are awful, too awful to think about ever again.

"I need to go tell Sam!" she exclaims happily. "I'll be back by dinner, promise."

"You better be," her Dad warns her jokingly.

"I love you," she says to the both of them before leaving the room. She hears them shout 'Love you, too,' just before she exits the house. It doesn't take her long to make it to Sam's house, considering he lives right next door.

She doesn't bother knocking, just walks in. The Evans' house is practically a second home to her.

Mr. Evans isn't home; he probably won't be home for another couple of hours. Mrs. Evans is home, but it's Tuesday, which means she's upstairs doing laundry. She finds Sam where she expects to find him: in the basement, lounging on his leather couch and stuffing his face with Cheetos.

She doesn't say hi, just plops down beside him and grabs a Cheeto from the bowl before popping it into her mouth.

"Hello to you, too," Sam says, leaning over and placing the bowl at his feet. He looks at Rachel after sitting back up. "You have no manners, y'know."

"Whatever you say," she replies, grinning. "Aren't you going to ask why I'm here?"

"Maybe, maybe not." She sends him a glare; he rolls his eyes. "Fine, I'll ask, your majesty. Why are you here? Not that it's anything new because you're always here, but..."

"I have tickets to Chicago," she interrupts him before he can finish.

He smiles at this piece of information. "They actually bought those for you? Sheesh."

She studies him closely, and realizes that he doesn't seem all that surprised. "You knew, didn't you?" Her tone is accusing.

"No, of course not," he says, but he doesn't look her in the eyes.

"Samuel James Evans, you _know _I detest liars," she mock-scolds him. "You knew. Admit it."

"Okay, okay, I knew," he admits with a sigh. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you, but David scares the hell out of me and he glared at me, so I knew better than to spill the beans."

Rachel laughs, clearly amused. "I don't know why Dad frightens so many people. He's a softy."

"Right..." She flashes him a warning look, causing him to change the subject. "So... glee, huh? Why didn't you tell me you could sing, Rach? You're amazing."

She doesn't bother hiding her blush. "I don't like to brag," is her only answer. "What about you? Why didn't you tell me you were in glee? I mean, we've talked all summer and not once has that come up."

She's unsure why, but her words cause Sam to blush. It's cute, she thinks.

"I, uh, I kind of liked you at the beginning of summer and uh, that's not really something I tell girls I like."

He clears his throat awkwardly after speaking and somehow manages to avoid her gaze.

"You liked me?" She feels bad when he nods, confirming that she hasn't heard him wrong. She feels bad because she thinks maybe she could have liked him back, if there weren't something terribly wrong with her. Something that doesn't allow her to feel that way towards men, and it's not because she's a lesbian because she has liked boys before, in the past, but... She can't like boys anymore.

She doesn't think much more on that, however. She can't go down that road again, can't take that trip down memory lane. Horrible thoughts consume her when she does think of her past, and those thoughts make her feel so terribly guilty.

"I did," Sam says, finally looking directly at her. "I don't anymore. No worries."

"Gee, thanks," she mumbles jokingly.

"You're great, Rach," he defends himself, "and it has nothing to do with you..." He pauses, studies her face for a moment, and then laughs. "You're not really offended, are you?"

She shakes her head. "No, I take no offense to you not liking me like that anymore. You can relax; we're cool."

Sam opens his mouth to reply, but is interrupted by his mother's voice yelling, "Samuel, you have a visitor!"

His face lights up. "I wonder who that could be," he says, but Rachel's not stupid; he already knows who it is.

"What are you up to, Sam?" she asks, eying him suspiciously.

"Nothing," he replies innocently before yelling, "Tell her to come on down to the basement, mom!"

"Her?" Rachel inquires just before a vaguely familiar voice says, "Already a step ahead of you, Evans. As always."

"Quinn," Rachel greets her, turning her head to see said blonde leaning against the inside of the basement door.

"Hi, Rachel." The Cheerio beams at her.

She tries not to giggle when the word 'Cheerio' crosses her mind; she finds it highly amusing that the cheerleaders at WMHS are referred to as 'Cheerios.'

"Should I leave you two ladies alone?" Sam asks teasingly when neither one of them pays him any mind.

Rachel chuckles, tearing her gaze from Quinn and focusing it on Sam. "There's no need to be a drama queen, Samuel."

He glares; she knows he hates when she calls him by his full first name. Almost as much as he hates it when his mom does the same thing.

"Samuel? I can't even get away with calling him that. He throws a fit," Quinn says as she seats herself beside Rachel; the brunette can't help but notice that the girl doesn't bother putting a comfortable distance between them. Not that sitting this close to Quinn is uncomfortable, but...

"I refer to everyone by their full first name," Rachel informs her. "It's the respectful thing to do, regardless of whether they like it or not. Samuel here is no exception."

"You're serious?" Quinn asks.

"I'm not," Rachel admits, laughing softly. "I just like torturing him, is all. It was the best part of my summer."

"I'm still in the room, you know," Sam chimes in; he doesn't really sound all that upset.

"Sorry," the girls apologize in unison. Halfheartedly, of course.

"Right." He obviously doesn't buy their apologies. "I'll be upstairs, picking out a movie and making us something to snack on." Quinn and Rachel both eye him wearily when he says this. He rolls his eyes. "Relax, ladies. I won't be cooking," he assures them before standing up and making his way out of the basement.

* * *

Quinn fights to hide her satisfied grin when Sam leaves the room, but it's damn near impossible and one breaks out on her face despite her efforts. The only reason she'd dropped by Sam's is because he told her earlier on in the day that Rachel usually spends the evening at his house.

"You and Sam seem close," she points out for lack of anything better to say. She hopes Rachel and Sam aren't _too _close; she can't be sure that Rachel is gay or even bi-sexual, but the way she reacts to boys, it's certainly not the way straight girls react. Then again, she could be wrong, because she's not exactly straight, so she has no clue how girls react to boys.

Whatever. She'll find out, one way or another.

"I guess you could say that," Rachel replies. "He's a good guy. Naive, but good."

"Are you two...?" She lets the question trail off; she knows Sam and Rachel aren't dating because if Sam has a girlfriend, everyone knows, but she's asking just to be sure.

"Me and Sam?" Rachel sounds almost amused; she really tries not to smile at that, but once again, her efforts are futile. "We're merely friends. I guess he liked me in that way when he first met me, but I never reciprocated those feelings. I, uh... I'm not really interested in boys."

Thankfully, she manages to _not _smile at that, though she's jumping with joy inside.

"So, you're a lesbian?" she asks because it's never been like her to beat around the bush.

Rachel blushes and Quinn finds it really,_ really_ adorable. "Not exactly..." Her sentence trails off, and once again, Quinn hears that crack in her voice, the same one she heard in glee. Her heart aches, just like before. What causes that crack in Rachel's voice? She's curious, but she doesn't ask. It's not her place.

"I'm attracted to boys, but I prefer girls," Rachel says after clearing her throat. "Not a lot of people know; not because I'm uncomfortable with homosexuality... I do have two dads after all, but because I don't socialize very often so it never comes up."

She wants to ask why Rachel doesn't socialize, but something in the girl's voice tells her that now isn't the time.

"I have nothing against homosexuality, either," Quinn assures her. "That'd be kind of hypocritical of me since I'm as gay as they come."

"Oh." Rachel looks as though she doesn't know what to say in response to that. "I have to be honest, I wasn't expecting that."

Quinn's not surprised by that admission. "No one ever is, so your reaction is nothing new."

"Does everyone know?" She looks almost embarrassed after asking. _So adorable_. "You don't have to answer that, obviously. I don't mean to pry, it's just that..."

"It's fine," Quinn cuts in, "and yes, everyone knows. I came out before Regionals last year. It was the only way to get the glee kids to shut up about my so-called 'sudden' break-up with Finn."

"The freakishly tall one?" Quinn chuckles before nodding. "You dated him?"

"Fake dated," Quinn corrects her. She'd fake dated Finn for nearly three years before deciding that she'd had enough. It hadn't been fair to Finn, first of all, that she had asked him to be her 'gay beard.' There were plenty of girls he'd been interested in at William McKinley High School, but he'd been forced to date girls from separate school districts because, obviously, it'd look suspicious if Finn had been seen out with any girl besides Quinn. And second, she'd just gotten so fed up with pretending to be someone she isn't. She isn't a straight female; she can't stand the thought of letting any guy's _thing _anywhere near her vagina and honestly, pretending grows tiring after a while. So, she 'broke up' with Finn and when the glee kids started asking questions, she blurted out that she's a lesbian.

It hadn't surprised her that the following day at school, everyone had been whispering about her. She'd put a stop to that, of course; she is a bitch, after all, and most of the people at WMHS are afraid of her.

Her sexuality, thankfully, is old news now.

"And he was okay with that?" Rachel asks skeptically.

"I didn't force him or anything," Quinn says, laughing softly. "He agreed to it. Besides, it's not like I didn't let him date. He just couldn't date girls from school, that's all. He was free to do whatever the hell he wanted to so long as it was with a girl that had nothing to do with WMHS."

"And your parents?" Rachel asks hesitantly. The girl's no longer looking at her; her gaze is on Quinn's necklace. The question makes sense now and it doesn't seem anywhere near as random as she originally thinks it is.

She hesitates for only a moment. "I live with Santana and her family," is her only response. It's not that she doesn't want to say more, it's just that talking about her parents is hard. The emotional wounds are still fresh.

_You're a disgrace to this family and an abomination. God does not love gays._

Her father's harsh words play through her mind and she quickly pushes them away. The words still sting, just as much today as they did the day they were spoken. The day that her father decided she was no longer his daughter and that she needed to leave.

_I will not have a disgrace living in this house. _

She pushes that thought away as well and squeezes her eyes shut tightly, fighting back the tears she feels stinging at her eyes. She can't cry; she barely even knows Rachel. It would be ridiculous to cry in front of her.

"Quinn." The girl's tone is soft. Her touch is even softer, Quinn notes when Rachel places her hand atop hers. "God loves you, don't doubt that. He loves everyone."

The girl's soothing voice gets Quinn to open her eyes. A soft smile graces her lips. "I know," she says in an almost whisper. Rachel's hand is still touching hers; she doesn't make a move to remove it. Neither does Rachel. "I'm fine, though, really. It's hard, but I'm okay."

And she is. She's okay. She misses her parents, but the resentment she feels towards them is so strong that it rules out the fact that she misses them. They're her parents and she'll always love them, but she doesn't think she'll ever find it in her heart to ever fully forgive them.

_"Eyawr_," Rachel says as she removes her hand from atop Quinn's. The blonde tries desperately not to frown at this; she nearly sighs with relief when she succeeds.

"Did you just speak Na'vi?" Quinn asks when the girl's response fully registers in her mind. Her tone is full of disbelief.

"I did," Rachel admits, albeit hesitantly. "Right, is what I said. I meant to say something more intellectual, but nothing came to my mind."

Quinn giggles. "Evans turned you into a total geek this summer, didn't he?"

"_Srane,_" a male voice says before Rachel can reply, startling both the girls.

"I am perfectly capable of speaking for myself, Samuel," Rachel says, mock-glaring at him as he squeezes in between Quinn and Rachel. Quinn wants to strangle him for putting so much distance between her and the brunette. They were actually getting somewhere with their conversation and then Sam, a stupid boy, decides to show his face and interrupt.

_Story of my life_, she thinks. First with Puck getting in between her and Santana, which turned out to be for the best, but _still_, and now Sam, interrupting her alone time with her current object of affection. Not that she thinks of Rachel as an object, because she doesn't, but...

Anyway, it's not like this is the same thing.

Besides, Rachel prefers girl. She thinks she stands a chance; of course, she has to get to know Rachel first.

And now, thanks to Evans, she has the perfect excuse to always be around.

* * *

**author's note**: y'all are curious about rachel's past, so i went ahead and put one flashback in this chapter. it's nothing big, but whatevs. you'll learn more about her past later on in the story, should i decide to continue. this really is any iffy thing, but so far, so good.

why the rachel and sam friendship, you ask? well, i blame it on tumblr and all the pretty graphics that have been edited of sam and rachel. not to mention, all the fanfictions that are actually very funny and very sweet and very interesting. so, yes, i ship rachel and sam, just a little, and as much as i love finchel (yes, i ship finchel - i don't even ship faberry, but this story came into my head and i couldn't not write it; i happen to hate quinn), i wouldn't be mad if rachel and sam dated for a little.

_Srane_ is 'yes' in Na'Vi. I'm using a translator; I don't know how accurate it is, but it's no biggie.

Thank you for all your kind reviews. I truly appreciate it.

- Kara.


	4. Burden

She wakes in a cold sweat. She had another nightmare; only, they are never really nightmares, they are her nightmarish reality. The reality of her awful past that she revisits whenever the sun goes down and her eyes close.

She looks at her alarm clock. She has an hour before she has to get up for school. She knows that she will not be able to go back to sleep, nor does she want to sleep. When she sleeps, she dreams about the past she wants to forget, but she is aware that the past cannot stay buried.

She can hide behind her Dads and she can hide behind Denise and she can hide behind school, but she cannot hide from herself, not when she is alone.

Rachel forces herself out of her bed and walks over to her treadmill. Her Daddy bought it for her a year after he and Dad adopted her. They figured it would help her take out some of her frustrations and keep her focused.

She runs and runs and runs, continuously running in place. She sees the tears before she feels them; tears of betrayal, of pain, of anger, and of resentment.

She stops running and steps off the treadmill. She will not do this. She will not allow her past to control her, but with a sigh, she accepts that it _does_ control her. The important thing is to not let it define her, though she thinks it may already be a little too late.

* * *

"NOAH PUCKERMAN YOU GET YOUR ASS BACK HERE _RIGHT NOW!_"

Quinn does not know how on earth she ended up on the McKinley football field chasing Noah Puckerman around in her cheer leading uniform on a _windy day._

She thinks he has had this planned for ages or something, because her skirt is flying all over the place and she knows he can see her panties which has been his goal for _years _(actually, his goal has been to get _inside_), but like hell she would let him anywhere near her because one, he does not have the right equipment, and two, he is a total dick.

"Let me fuck you, Santana, and Brittany _at the same time_ and I might talk about giving your journal back to you," he propositions. She stares at him in disbelief before launching herself at him, tackling him to the ground.

He stares up at her, smirking in that natural Puckerman way.

She yanks her journal from his hand and glares at him, prompting him to say, "You're so sexy when you're angry, babe."

She is half-tempted to spit in his face but she hears, "Noah? Quinn? What is going on here, if you don't mind me asking?" and immediately rolls off Puck and lands on the grass beside him.

Rachel is standing over them, looking somewhat amused, but mostly confused, and Quinn can feel the warmth spreading from her neck to her cheeks and _dear god, _she prays that her face does not match the color of her uniform.

"Oh, nothing," Quinn replies unconvincingly, watching as Puck stands and moves himself closer to Rachel, who looks clearly uncomfortable at their close proximity. Not that he notices. Or maybe he does and just does not care because this is Puck she is thinking about and Puck hardly thinks with the head he should be thinking with.

And like he even cares enough to pay attention to when a girl does not want to be near him. He is convinced he is the All Mighty Puckerone when he is in the sack, and maybe he is (she _has_ heard a lot of stories, one she does not particularly want to hear ever again), but she does not care in the slightest.

"Need a hand?" Rachel asks her because obviously Puck does not care enough to ask, and Quinn finds herself smiling because Rachel's tone is soft and she sounds shy. Quinn likes shy.

"Yeah, thanks," she says nonchalantly, acting all calm, cool, collected, even though she feels everything _but _calm, cool, and collected when Rachel leans down and grabs her hand.

She knows she is staring too hard and that her eyes should be on Rachel's face, but as the girl pulls her up, Quinn's face is dangerously close to her chest and _fuck, those boobs._

She mentally smacks herself for sounding so much like Puck, but she prides herself on the fact that she at least has the decency to not voice her perverse thoughts aloud.

"Aww how cute," Puck drawls sarcastically, winking at both girls. Quinn scoffs, disgusted. Rachel continues to look uncomfortable. "You gonna bang her, Q? 'Cause if not, I will totally take care of her for you... or we could both do her. Whichever you are more comfortable with."

"I can hear you, you insufferable jerk." Rachel steps away from Puck, moving so that she is standing beside Quinn. Her shoulder brushes against Quinn's and both girls blush deeply while Puck watches on in amusement, clearly unaffected by Rachel's insult. Not surprising.

"Babe, you know you want this, even if you do bat for the same team as Q here." His crude statements are never-ending. Normally Quinn would ignore him, but there is something about the look in Rachel's eyes, the way they are glossy and glazed over like she is visiting a place in her mind that she does not want to be, is making it impossible for her to pretend that how Puck is acting is not bothering her.

She finding herself wanting to take care of Rachel; she wants to protect her, to take her away to a place where whatever is hurting her cannot hurt her anymore.

She knows logically that whatever the petite brunette is hiding is not easily fixable; maybe she cannot fix her at all, but she wants to try. She wants to give her a shoulder to lean on, a hand to hold, and lend her an ear to listen.

But she won't push. She can see that pushing would be a bad idea; pushing would push Rachel away instead of bring her closer, but Quinn honestly does want to try. She feels like she needs to because a girl as amazing as Rachel deserves to always be happy and smiling and _okay. _

"Screw you, _Noah_," Quinn seethes, taking Rachel by the hand (she fights to ignore the jolt of electricity that shoots through her entire body at the contact, but it is not easy) and leading her away from Puck.

"Anytime, Fabray!" Puck calls after her.

She flips him the bird over her shoulder with her free hand while walking with Rachel hand-in-hand towards the front entrance of the school. They manage to arrive seconds before the first bell rings, signaling the start of the school day.

Quinn hesitates before releasing Rachel's hand as they stop in the middle of the hallway. There are students rushing around them and it is the usual high school chaos, but to Quinn it is like it is merely her and Rachel.

"I appreciate what you did for me on the field," Rachel starts. She sounds unsure. "I... it was really uncomfortable for me to have Noah speaking to me in such a crass manner and I thank you for pretty much saving me back there. I had no clue how to handle him, so again," she pauses, taking a deep breath and then exhaling sharply, "thank you."

She wants to ask why it bothers Rachel to the extent that it appears to. She wants to ask what happened to her to make her so terrified of men because Rachel can deny it all she wants, but something about men scares her. Then again, Quinn is afraid of the answers, afraid she would not be able handle them.

Yet, she wants to ask because she wants to know Rachel which makes her feel creepy and insane because she has only known Rachel for a total of two days and it is too early for her to feel the way that she is starting to realize she does.

"No problem, Rach," she says, and it is killing her not to ask the questions that are nagging at her, but that look in Rachel's eyes is making it clear that if she were to ask now, Rachel would run and she does not want to chase away the girl she has been romantically interested in since that disaster that was her love for Santana.

"See you at lunch?" She hates how hopeful she sounds because it is so not like her to doubt herself or anything she does, but she is different around Rachel because she feels she has to tiptoe around her. She thinks of Rachel as someone who is fragile and she seems so broken that Quinn is afraid she may shatter should someone push her too hard.

Rachel beams at her and Quinn thinks being careful may just be worth it in the end even though she never does anything carefully anymore.

Of course, it never hurts to change. "Where else would I go?" Quinn knows the question is a rhetorical one, so she does not answer. She simply marvels at the beautiful, almost blinding smile Rachel gives her before they both turn and head for their first class of the day.

And Quinn does not know about Rachel, but she sure as hell knows that her focus will be off all day.

* * *

_Tap, tap, tap_. She stares straight ahead, her eyes seeing that her teacher is writing and her ears hearing tiny snippets of the lesson, but not a single one of her senses is fully registering anything that is being said or written.

She is thinking of Quinn and she silently reprimands herself for wondering if the pretty blonde is thinking of her, too. Quinn has been extremely sweet to her the past couple of days and she cannot keep herself from wondering what on earth she has done to deserve to be treated so kindly by an absolute stranger.

She wants to know Quinn, which she thinks makes her a bit of a hypocrite because she cannot allow Quinn to know her, not the her that she has kept buried for the past three years.

Some aspects of her past need to stay hidden because she does not want the pity. She does not want to be thought of as the weak girl, the one who is easily broken even though she feels she _is _easily broken.

She stays away from men because she does not want any man to get the chance to finish what all those other men started... her mother's boyfriends.

She hears a loud smack and she winces, a scream escaping her before she realizes that the smacking sound was the sound of her teacher dropping her ruler.

She can feel eyes boring into her from every side and she turns her head to see her classmates and her teacher practically gaping at her.

She instantly jumps out of her seat, not bothering to grab her books as she bolts out of the classroom and continuing to run until she is outside of the school. She collapses against the front wall of the school building, pulling her knees up to her chest and resting her head against her knees.

Her heart hurts, her head hurts, her _everything _hurts.

_Another Joe; this time with blonde hair instead of brown like the last one, not that it mattered to Rachel because the men in her mother's life had stopped mattering to her after the first Joe her mother had dated after Rachel's dad's death. _

_The now ten year old Rachel was hiding behind the kitchen counter (a place she found herself hiding in more often than one would deem necessary for a little girl), watching as her mother's current boyfriend paced back and forth in the kitchen, muttering about bratty ten year olds and bitchy mothers who were going to get what was coming to them (she knew what those words meant; she had heard them plenty of times over the years and she felt the fear swelling inside of her, finding herself unable to push it down and bury it like she had done in the past). _

_A loud smack erupted throughout the kitchen and little Rachel jumped on instinct, her eyes widening as she met the gaze of a very angry Joe. _

_She knew that look; it was such an evil look, one of pure hatred. What she had done to be so hated by a man who hardly knew her, she hadn't a clue, nor had she had a clue why all the others had hated her. She was just a child. A girl. Defenseless. _

_Her body tensed as Joe approached her, swiftly grabbing her by the arm. Tears sprung into her eyes, but they did not fall; they hardly did anymore. _

_Joe's grip tightened on her arm and her eyes closed of their own accord. A squeak of terror escaped her as his hand connected with her face, but she did not move as he stepped away from her, that look of hatred still in his dark eyes. _

_She touched her finger to her lips, looking at it as she pulled it away from her mouth. All she saw was red, but she felt nothing. She was just numb. _

"Rachel?" The soft spoken tone of Quinn interrupts Rachel's thoughts, or rather, memory. She wipes at her eyes, knowing that she has been crying and hating that Quinn has to see it because she does not like being seen as weak in the eyes of others.

Quinn is looking at her with that dreaded look of pity. "Yeah?" She is trying to keep herself from growing defensive because she does not want to scare Quinn away. She is too used to scaring people away when they try to get in and Quinn is one person she does not want to lose so quickly.

"What are you hiding from, Rach?" Quinn asks, seating herself beside the brunette. Rachel looks away from her, unsure how to answer because she knows she is not going to tell Quinn what is wrong with her (she wants to, she has wanted to talk about it for years but the pain is too raw, and it is too hard), but she does not want to tell a lie, either, because she is tired of lying to everyone. Lying grows exhausting after so long.

"It's complicated. I'm sorry," she says with a shrug, her eyes focused on the ground because she is hesitant to look at Quinn. She is afraid of what the girl is going to say, of what expression she has on her face.

If the pity is still there, she will be unable to cope; she will be unable to continue hiding, to continue fighting.

"Don't be," Quinn tells her softly and Rachel finally looks at her. The pity is gone, thankfully. Quinn touches Rachel's shoulder; her touch is feather light, comforting. "But if you ever want to talk, I'm here, okay? I won't judge you."

Rachel doesn't say anything, she merely rests her head on Quinn's shoulder. Quinn wraps her arms around Rachel, pulling her close and for the first time since her dads showed up and saved her life, Rachel feels safe, secure. Wanted.

XXX

"Trevor told Jason who told Mary who told Craig who told Angelica who told Matty who told me that Ms. Robinson was fired because she tried to poison Trevor's food which is kind of funny because Trevor is a total jerk, but how-"

"Denise!" Rachel interrupts her sister, dropping her book bag onto the couch and throwing herself onto it, her legs resting over the arm of the couch. "Would you pretty please quit talking a mile a minute? I did not catch a word of anything you just said."

Denise sits on Rachel's legs, which is not exactly comfortable, but Rachel does not move an inch because she knows Denise is trying to get her to sit up and she does not feel like moving at the moment.

Denise makes herself comfortable and rests her head against the back of the couch. "I don't know why you have to be so grumpy all the time. Are you on your period? Daddy tells me you start acting grumpy when it is your time of the month. I hope I don't get like that with mine... do you think I will? Is it gross? Why do we even bleed from our private places-"

"_Denise." _She does not like interrupting her sister because she knows that it is rude and sometimes it hurts Denise's feelings, but she swears that her little sister does not know when to shut up at times.

Granted, Rachel has those moments herself, but not nearly as frequently as Denise.

"I will have you know that it is _not _my time of the month and yes, I am being grumpy and I apologize, but I have not exactly had the best day."

Denise's expression changes from annoyed to concerned in the blink of an eye and Rachel immediately regrets ever having said anything in the first place.

Denise knows a little about Rachel's past, but when Rachel told her, she spared her some of the grislier details. She hadn't even wanted to tell Denise; in fact, she had begged her dads to keep her past a secret from her sister, but a few months after Rachel had passed the six month trial, Denise had been the one to walk into the room after Rachel had awoken from a nightmare.

Denise had refused to leave the room, swearing up and down that she would stay until Rachel told her what was wrong because "it's nothing" had not been an acceptable excuse for her.

Rachel had shared with her the gist of what had happened to her in the past; her biological father's passing when she was only a toddler, her mom's addiction to alcohol and drugs, and the scary men who had hurt her in very bad ways (she had not elaborated because Denise had been too young for an elaboration and in Rachel's mind, she was still too young to know the whole truth).

"Is it the scary men again?" Denise asks quietly and Rachel's only response is to nod because what is she supposed to say? She cannot tell her sister the content of her nightmares; content that is real and horrifying. Denise, who is young and vibrant and happy does not deserve to carry such a burden around with her. No one does.

Rachel has no choice because it happened to her, so she will carry the burden around with her for the rest of her life, but she will not allow anyone else to do it for her. Her dads already do and she feels awful for it; she will not push it off on anyone else, not ever again.

"They can't hurt you anymore, sissy," Denise whispers, nudging Rachel gently with her elbow. "Dad and Daddy won't let anything ever happen to you, and neither will I because I love you and they do, too. I promise."

Rachel smiles because even though the words are naive and she does not believe them, she appreciates the effort and feels good knowing that she has people who care about her; people who she loves who love her. She has a family, a good one. A functional one.

"I know," are the last words spoken between the two and they sit in a comfortable silence watching That 70s Show until both girls fall asleep, and for the first time in a long time, Rachel sleeps a dreamless sleep.

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **I am taking a whack at this story again. Granted, it has been over a year since I have last updated and I apologize for that, but I had lost inspiration and have found it again just recently. However, I make no promises that the inspiration will stay. It may come and go, but I shall try my best to finish this story even if it kills me. 


	5. Just A Kiss

_"I want to wrap you up, wanna kiss your lips. I... wanna make you feel wanted. I wanna call you mine, wanna hold your hand forever, and never let you forget it... Yeah, I... wanna make you feel wanted." _

She smiles because his voice is smooth and sweet and she knows he is singing the song to her;_ for_ her because she has been "down in the dumps" (his words precisely) the past few weeks ever since she broke down in the middle of her Calculus class.

She is glad that the look he is giving her is an innocent one because he does not feel _that way _for her anymore, which is good because he deserves someone who can reciprocate his feelings and truly appreciate how amazing he is, and he _is _amazing because who else would sing a song to a girl that he used to like who never liked him back the same way to make her feel better because he still cares so much for her?

Not many, that she can say for sure.

Sam's smile is _huge _when the song ends and the room fills with applause. She stands on her feet, her applause the loudest of all because his performance deserves a standing ovation. Her standing causes everyone to stand and she mouths "thank you" to Sam because today, she feels truly happy and she owes it all to him.

"All right, all right, that's enough," Mr. Schue says, breaking through Rachel's thoughts. He orders everyone to quiet down and take their seats, which they do. "You're up, Quinn," he tells the blonde who is currently seated beside Rachel.

She and Quinn have been sitting together since she first joined the glee club her first week at McKinley. Over the past few weeks, she and Quinn have been inseparable, though most of their time is spent in Sam's basement because hanging out at Santana's is awkward (Santana likes to make inappropriate jokes whenever Rachel and Quinn are seen together which always succeeds in making both girls blush) and hanging out at Rachel's is okay, but Denise hardly ever leaves them be, so Sam's is pretty much their only option.

Quinn walks to the front of the room and nods at Brad and the rest of the band, and then she begins to sing.

_"Everybody's waiting, everybody's watching. Even when you're sleeping, keep your ey-eyes_ _open._" The words hit her hard as they fall upon her ears and she feels like her heart is lodged in her throat. This is her first time hearing Quinn _really _sing. Her voice is soft and sweet and _different; _beautiful, like Quinn.

She can feel the words as Quinn sings them, her eyes never leaving the blonde as she stands in front of her and the rest of the glee kids, along with Mr. Schuester, singing her heart out.

"_So here you are, two steps ahead and staying on guard," _Quinn is looking at her and she cannot tear her gaze away even though she wants to because she can feel her eyes watering and she is fighting not to cry because she has cried way too often in the past few weeks, "_Every lesson forms a new scar. They never thought you'd make it this far._" She bets they did not think she would make it this far; the men, her mom... all the people who have ever hurt her and tried to tear her down.

"_But turn around, oh they've surrounded you. It's a showdown and nobody comes to save you now, but you've got something they don't. Yeah, you've got something they don't. You've just gotta keep your eyes open..."_

A tear leaks from her eye and she wipes it away forcefully, willing the others to stay inside with every ounce of strength she has inside of her.

When the other members of the club stand once the song ends, Rachel stays seated and she stares at Quinn. She can see a message in Quinn's eyes, one that is saying more than her mind is able to comprehend. When Quinn returns to her seat, Rachel looks at her and mouths, "I want to see you tonight, just you and me," and Quinn nods, her smile so beautiful and her hazel eyes sparkling.

Before Rachel can stop herself and before she can even think of what it is she is doing, she reaches over and delicately tucks a few loose strands of hair behind Quinn's ear.

Quinn looks almost shy and opens her mouth to speak, but all she manages to say is, "I-" because Santana interrupts her, saying, "You and KinderGrandma really need to fuck already. Seriously. Get it out of your system, Quinnie."

Rachel frowns at her unappealing nickname while Quinn tosses a glare at Santana over her shoulder. She does not know why Santana _insists_ on referring to her as KinderGrandma when they get along fairly well (as well as she thinks is possible considering Santana's lack of filter and scary similarities to Noah Puckerman's personality), but her attempts to convince the Latina to not call her such an unappealing name have been futile and she has given up all hope on losing the nickname.

"_Shut up_, San," Quinn snaps while Rachel twiddles her thumb; a nervous habit. "I will force you to eat your mother's infamous lasagna tomorrow night instead of taking you to Breadstix if you make one more crude comment today. I am not joking."

Rachel is biting back her laughter because she is positive that if she laughs, Santana will serve her own head to her on a silver platter and personally, she would rather her head stay where it is currently situated.

"Whatever," Santana scoffs, turning in her chair to harass Sam after Mr. Schue announces he needs to take a bathroom break and leaves the room momentarily. "Listen, Trouty Mouth-" Rachel tunes Santana out because sometimes tuning Santana out is what is best for everyone.

Mr. Schue returns about five minutes later and announces that it is Rachel's turn to perform. She hesitates before standing and moving to the front of the room.

It had taken her many hours to choose a song and even longer to perfect her choice once she had chosen. She has been a perfectionist for as long as she can remember; she has been told by her dads that it probably has something to do with her awful home life growing up, but she is deciding not to dwell on their words because then she will be unable to get through her performance.

Noah (she calls him Noah and he hates it, but Noah is the good side of Noah Puckerman and surprisingly enough, that side actually exists, as Rachel discovered while working with him one-on-one) stands from his seat and moves to the front of the room after her. A few of the other members look confused by the action, but there is a reason for his joining her. She had approached him after school a couple of days ago and asked him to perform with her (she would have asked Sam or Finn, but even though Puck frightens her and makes her want to hide in a corner, his voice is better suited for this particular song) because her song is meant for two people and singing it as a solo would not put forth the emotion she is trying to convey.

Noah slings his guitar over his shoulder and stands across the room from Rachel, as they have practiced several times in their free time over the past two days.

"_Lying here with you so close to me. It's hard to fight these feelings when it feels so hard to breathe,_" she starts to sing, her gaze meeting Noah's only once before she focuses on her reason for choosing this song. _Quinn. _Quinn, the girl who had listened to her singing in the shower and had thought enough of her to take a chance on her and ask her to join glee club.

Quinn, the girl who always manages to be right around the corner when she feels herself going down that road that she has been promising herself for years to never go down again.

"_Caught up in this moment, caught up in your smile_," she continues. Noah sings his verse and then they both join in on the chorus, their voices meshing together surprisingly well (turns out that Noah is not so bad when he is not using cheesy pick-up lines and trying desperately to get in her pants).

"_Just a kiss on your lips in the moonlight. Just a touch of the fire burning so bright. No, I don't wanna mess this thing up... I don't wanna push too far. Just a shot in the dark that you just might be the one I've been waiting for my whole life, so baby I'm all right... with just a kiss goodnight._"

Her focus is solely on Quinn for the entirety of their performance and when the song ends and there is no more singing, Quinn looks at her in a way that she knows is more than friendly.

She tells herself to keep the look in mind for later. Maybe she can take the song a lot more literally than she originally thought.

* * *

"Quinn, you can't leave. Sue will have you kicked to the bottom of the pyramid and while I would _love _to take your spot as Head Cheerio," Quinn rolls her eyes, "you are my best friend and I will kill you if you tell anyone this, I actually care about you, so-"

"San, shut up," Quinn interrupts Santana, falling into step in between her and Brittany. The girls are on the football field. Sue announced a Cheerios practice after glee had ended, but Quinn is refusing to stay because she has a scheduled date with Rachel and the last thing she wants to do is cancel. "I am Quinn Fucking Fabray and _no way _is Sue Sylvester taking my Head Cheerio spot away from me. I worked my ass off to get where I am right now and if she tries to ruin my life," okay, maybe it won't exactly _ruin her life_, but she is entitled to exaggerating once in a blue moon, "I will have no trouble doing the same to hers, and you _know _I can because I have _so much _dirt on her from back when I used to be one of her little spies."

"You're a spy? Like, Inspector Wizard with those cool little toys?" Brittany chimes in. Both girls look at her strangely.

"Inspector _Gadget_, B.," Santana corrects her lovingly. "Gadget, not Wizard." Brittany says nothing more on the subject, thankfully (Quinn loves Brittany and all, but sometimes her innocence, while endearing, can be extremely obnoxious). "Anywho, Q, do whatever you have to do to get some of Berry's sweet ass, but don't say I didn't warn you."

"One, I am not you, San, so this is not strictly for ass," Santana looks slightly offended, but Quinn does not care because when does Santana actually care about hurting someone's feelings? "And two, take your warning and choke on it because you're wrong and I'm right. I love you, S., but the bitchiness isn't always cute." With those last words, she walks away, intent on being on time for her date (she doesn't know if it is really a date, but she is going to call it that anyway) with Rachel.

"Yeah, love you, too, slut!" Santana calls after her, but she pays the Latina no mind and keeps on walking.

X

"You didn't have to leave Cheerios practice for me, Quinn. I know how important it is to you."

Quinn shrugs at Rachel's comment like it is no big deal (honestly, she would never choose Cheerios over Rachel because that would make her stupid) as she steps inside the brunette's house. She is instantly greeted by the sight of two men and a little girl standing in the living room with huge, welcoming smiles on their faces.

She has met them briefly in passing the few times she has been at Rachel's house, but honestly, the only name she remembers is Denise because Rachel's dads had been too busy blabbering about Broadway and business and the thousands of creative ways to make vegan dinners to introduce themselves properly. Also, she remembers Denise because any time she has come over to Rachel's, Denise has not left them alone for even a millisecond. Sure, she is cute and all, but she does not seem to know the meaning of privacy.

Either that, or she just doesn't care (that is probably the case because that is the case with most children).

Rachel looks half-apologetic and half-horrified at her family choosing tonight of all nights to say more than a few words to Quinn, but Quinn smiles at her, wanting her to know that she does not really mind. And she doesn't, not really, because she thinks it is great that Rachel has a family who cares about her so much that they are interested in her life and the people who come in and out of her life.

She wishes she could say the same for her parents, but they kicked her out the second she shattered their perfect image of her with the truth of her sexuality.

"Quinn, I'm Timothy, and this is my husband, David." She does not remember if Timothy is Rachel's Dad or Daddy, but she supposes it does not matter because she won't be referring to them by such names anyway. "And this here is our daughter Denise, but you probably remember her from all the other times you have been here. I apologize for our behavior the first few times you were here. We were just so excited to see our Rachel bring home a friend. Weren't we, honey?" he asks his husband.

"Now, let us not embarrass our daughter, sweetheart," David says (she knows now that David is Dad and that Timothy is Daddy because Rachel described her Dad as the more reserved and quiet one and her Daddy as the more embarrassing one). "I'm sure you girls want to be alone, so go ahead on upstairs. We will call you both down when dinner is ready."

Rachel does not hesitate in taking Quinn's hand and dragging her up the stairs and into her bedroom. Rachel shuts the door once they enter the room, but instead of sitting on the bed with Rachel, Quinn stands awkwardly against the inside of the closed door.

Quinn wants to smack herself for acting so shy, but Rachel makes her nervous and seeing the brunette sitting on her bed looking so sexy (it should be illegal for someone as sexy as Rachel to wear skirts _that _short) is not helping her feel any less nervous.

She wants to kiss Rachel; she has been wanting to kiss Rachel since Rachel performed with Puck earlier in glee club, and when Rachel looks up at her through her eyelashes and says, "You can sit if you want to, you know," Quinn realizes that leaving this room tonight without having kissed Rachel is _not _an option.

She does not care if she crosses a line because Santana is right, she has to take a chance because she is Quinn Fabray and she has always been a risk taker and she cannot stop now, not when it means being with someone as amazing as Rachel Berry.

She forces herself to relax and clears her mind of all negative thoughts of everything that could go wrong as she takes the few steps she needs to reach Rachel's bed and seats herself beside the girl.

"So, how much trouble are you going to be in for skipping practice this evening?" Rachel asks as she lays back. Quinn mimics her action, resting her head against the pillows as she feels her arm brush against Rachel's. The hairs on her arm shoot up at the contact, but she ignores the static electricity that has just passed between them and tries to focus on listening to Rachel.

"Not a lot, I don't think," Quinn answers honestly. She had not been lying to Santana earlier; she has plenty of juicy dirt on Sue Sylvester and if Sue tries to take away one of the most important activities in her life, she will not hesitate to take away the only thing that Sue has going for her in her depressing, pathetic, lonely life.

She does not care if that makes her sound like a heartless bitch; sure, Sue's opinion matters to her and it probably always will because even though Sue is a totally evil monster who preys on children and anyone who has what she considers a pipe dream, she has played a big part in Quinn's high school career. She will never forget that and she will forever be thankful, but there are some things she will not let Sue get away with and taking away her spot on the Cheerios is one of those things.

"Sue may be an evil bitch a lot of the time, but she has proven that there is a heart someone inside of her, so I don't want to _have _to ruin her career. I will, though, if she tries to take my Cheerios spot away from me. Being a Cheerio means too much to me."

She is embarrassed by how bratty and selfish she sounds, but Rachel does not seem to be offended or disappointed by her words, which is a relief.

"So much so that you would be willing to ruin someone's life over it, even if that someone may be a heartless monster?" She does not ask the question cruelly; she sounds curious.

"When you say it that way, you make me sound horrible," Quinn speaks teasingly; Rachel tries to say something, but Quinn cuts her off because she is only joking and she knows Rachel had not meant it the way that it sounded. "Look, Rach, it's like this - my freshman year of high school, I was hiding from everyone; my family, my friends, anyone who was important to me because I couldn't deal with being who I was... who I am.

"I joined the Cheerios because it gave me some sense of control because it had started to feel like I was losing control and I _had _been losing control because when you can't be who you are due to someone's close-minded belief system or how you feel about yourself, _everyone else_ is in control.

"That, and I joined the Cheerios because I knew Santana wanted to join and she was a total shoe-in and I didn't want to be away from her because I had fallen in love with her not long after we started sneaking kisses behind trees and making out in our backyards when no one was around and the moon was shining bright."

She pauses, taking in the look on Rachel's face; she is looking at Quinn with doe eyes, eyes so sweet and innocent, but filled with a look of pain and secrets so dark, a look that seems to always be there.

"I can take my frustrations out when I am dancing. I was frustrated because I had to pretend to date Finn when he deserved better than to be my 'gay beard' and I was frustrated because I knew if my parents ever found out about me, they would want nothing to do with me. They would be ashamed... of me, of their own flesh and blood.

"I was frustrated when I caught Santana in bed with Puck at the end of my freshman year and not long after, I found out she had been screwing around with Britt the entire time we had secretly been together. Or at least, I had thought we were together, but I had been wrong.

"The Cheerios helped me to heal and that team, along with the glee club, is the reason I came out my junior year because I grew tired of hiding, and even though my parents kicked me out of my own home and I'm living with my best friend who I used to be in love with and I have to hear her having sex with the same girl she was cheating on me with a couple of years ago, I am happier than I have ever been.

"I get to be myself and not a lot of people have the luxury of saying that, not people like me or like you; people who are attracted to the same sex. We feel we have to hide because the world tells us that we are wrong, that we don't fit, but what they cannot accept and what they probably never will accept is that _they _are wrong."

She pauses, takes a deep breath. It is not like her to talk so quickly and so passionately, or even so much, but for the first time in _ever_, she feels like someone is honestly listening to what she has to say.

"So, you see, Rachel... even if it makes me sound like just as much of a monster as Sue, I will definitely tell all of her secrets if she tries to take away something that is so precious and important to me."

Rachel does not say anything, which worries Quinn, and she watches in confusion as the brunette moves so that she is leaning on her elbows and she watches as Rachel's face moves closer and closer to her own. Soft lips touch hers and she freezes, afraid that if she moves she will wake and this will all be a dream, but when the girl who is half on top of her and half beside her puts more pressure on her lips, she accepts that this is not a dream and allows herself to return the kiss.

The kiss only lasts a few seconds. Her mind is having a hard time wrapping around what just happened because Rachel pulls away like she has been burned.

"I... I'm sorry," Rachel stutters, looking anywhere but at Quinn.

Quinn gently touches her hand to Rachel's face and turns the girl's head so that she is looking directly at her. "Don't be. I know something is going on with you, Rach, and until you figure it out, I'll be here for you, whether you want me here as a friend or as more. I'm not going anywhere."

She regrets the words the second they leave her mouth (only partly because she _does_ mean them, but the words are still hard to say because Rachel pulling away from their kiss had stung a little) because she wants more. She wants to take Rachel on a date; she wants to learn her inside and out.

She will. She swears that she will ask Rachel out... someday. Soon (maybe).

But, for now, the smile Rachel gives her in response to her words is enough; enough for today, anyway.

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **Phew. I managed to pull this one out of my ass (excuse my language). I want to thank everyone for their kind reviews and so far, so good on the inspiration, so it is looking like I may actually finish this story.

I know it is not like Quinn to rant, but even though I believe it should be obvious, the Rachel and Quinn in this story are hardly anything like the Rachel and Quinn on the show. Of course, there are a few aspects that remain the same, such as Quinn's Head Bitch in Charge attitude from the first season and Rachel's choice in clothing (hence the nickname KinderGrandma given to her by the still very bitchy Santana).

Again, thank you for all the kind reviews and I shall update ASAP.


	6. Titanium

It is quiet, _too_ quiet, and the only noise being made is the racket in Rachel's head; the voices she hears every night yelling at her, calling her worthless, saying _you little bitch, you dirty whore_. Such frightening, threatening, loud voices.

The eerie quiet makes sense; it is four in the morning. The rest of the neighborhood is sleeping and the birds are hiding away all safe in their nests, and the crickets are silently waiting for dawn to approach.

In the Berry home, there is not a soul awake, none except Rachel, or so she thinks until she tiptoes her way downstairs and hears the television playing in the living room. Her dads are cuddling on the couch, their eyes wide open, cups of steaming hot chocolate sitting at the foot of the couch.

They look up when she makes her presence known, her footsteps louder now that she knows her dads are not sleeping. "Hi, tiny dancer," her Daddy greets her, scooting over towards the other side of the couch and patting the now empty spot in between him and her Dad.

She is hesitant to take a seat because they are both looking at her with such worry and she knows that they know something is wrong and they will not hesitate to ask her about it. She does not want to talk. She does not want to listen to what they have to say about how it will all get better with time because _it won't._ It hasn't yet and it has been three years since she left that foster home and she thinks if she were going to get over it, she should have been over it a long time ago.

Maybe there is no moving on, no letting go. How can she let go when she has no closure? She knows she can find her mom, she knows she can find closure if she seeks closure out (closure being her mother because she is the only one who can alleviate any of Rachel's pain and finally put her heart and soul at ease), but she is too afraid, afraid that her mother will not want anything to do with her (not that she would even stay in contact if her mother were to ever ask her to because her mother does not deserve a single ounce of her time) and will still be the messed up woman she was when Rachel was taken from her.

She doesn't even _want _to see her mother, and why should she want to? Her mother has never done any good for her; she has brought more blood and tears into Rachel's life than smiles and laughter, like mothers should.

"That Quinn girl seems very nice," her Dad says, trying to coax her to sit down and she thinks it may actually be working which does not surprise her because her Dad has a way of calming her down like no other.

"She is," she replies, moving closer to the couch and within seconds, she is seated in between her dads, their arms wrapping around her instantly. She does not care nor does she mind that they are holding onto her because she, Dad, and Daddy used to do this all of the time when she first moved into their home and she finds herself missing it, missing _them._

Her first few months in the house she had pushed them away and then she had finally started to let them in and now she has begun to push them away again. The thought causes her to feel guilty because all they have ever done is try to be there for her and they deserve to be treated with the kindness and respect they have constantly treated her with since they adopted her those three years earlier.

"So, what's the deal with you two, huh?" her Daddy asks, a mischievous glint in his eyes. She knows that look; it is his 'i'm-going-to-bombard-you-with-questions-and-then-embarrass-the-hell-out-of-you-until-you-turn-fifty-shades-of-red' look. "You seem to be spending a lot of time with her. You know Dad and I don't care about your sexual preferences right? So you go on ahead and date her if that is what you want, and I know that is what you want because I see the way you look at her. You look at her in the same way I look at your Dad."

Her Dad reaches behind Rachel and lightly brushes his fingers along her Daddy's pajama-clad arm and Rachel cannot hide her smile in response to them acting so sweetly with each other. The relationship they have is love at its finest; she has never seen two people more in love.

"You know I don't approve of your father's way of teasing you mercilessly, but I must say I am curious myself of your booming relationship with that sweet, blonde girl," her Dad states seriously. Normally, he would be derailing his husband from any conversation that appears to make Rachel uncomfortable, but apparently, this conversation is too juicy to pass up. Just her luck.

"I-I-I," Rachel stammers, finding herself unable to form a coherent sentence which is rather annoying because she is typically great with words (her first few months in the house she was closer to Dad and he tends to have a very fancy vocabulary, so she easily picked up on it), but she is not sure how to describe what she has with Quinn... if she has anything at all with her, that is, because she pulled away when they shared a kiss.

She regrets having pulled away. She regrets having put any distance between herself and Quinn's perfect lips, lips she has been thinking of since day one when Quinn asked her to join a silly little club that she did not think she would love as much as she does.

"I like her," Rachel admits slowly. "It scares me how much, actually, because I spend every moment of every day thinking of her when she is not around and when she _is _around, I seem to be unable to focus on anyone else who is in the room. She is funny, intellectual, brave, and beautiful from the inside out. She does not allow many people to see it and I do not believe that a lot of our classmates believe her to be kind and beautiful inside because of how nasty she treats some of the students, but the way she presents herself is the way she is_ told_ to present herself. She has set up a pretense and it would be silly of her to break the pretense now after so many years, but I know that is not who she truly is. I have seen her at her kindest. I see the way that she cares for our fellow glee club members and she has this way of being there when I need someone to _be there_.

"I don't know how she does it, but she does and I find myself wanting to return the favor... _needing _to return the favor." She pauses, trying to catch her breath. She has not spoken so quickly in ages, but she has a tendency to grow more passionate when talking of someone she cares deeply for, and it is true that she cares very much for Quinn.

"Why don't you tell her that, honey?" Dad asks. "She deserves to know how you make her feel and you deserve to be happy. Let yourself be happy, dear, and tell her. What is keeping you from being honest with her?"

She looks down, focusing anywhere but on the faces of her dads. She knows that her silence has alerted them to the reason why she has not said anything, a reason that is obvious to anyone who knows the truth of her ugly past. Her dads know the worst of it, so they understand more, but they cannot truly understand because they aren't the ones who lived it and continue to live with it every day because even though it is over and no one can hurt her anymore, it still affects her life.

"Dad, Daddy, she _cannot_ know. No one can who does not know _already_ know," she answers, playing with the hem of her nightshirt. Her chest feels heavy. "Does being unable to share my past with everyone I care for make me a bad person?" she asks meekly, not looking at either one of her fathers. "I _want_ to learn to trust my friends. Sam has been nothing but nice to me since we first met and... Did you know he used to have feelings for me? Romantic feelings?"

Her dads do not look surprised by her words, so she takes their lack of response as a yes. "If I were normal, I know I would have felt the same towards him and if I were normal, I would probably even be Samuel's girlfriend right now. He is a wonderful human being and his heart is full of love and compassion. He is driven and talented; everything that would interest me if I could allow myself to feel _anything_ toward a man, but I can't because I can only associate men with," she pauses, "with..."

She swallows the lump that has formed in her throat. She stands. "I am terribly exhausted, so I think I am going to try and get some more sleep," she sighs, and it is a sad sound. "I love you both very much and thank you for listening to me ramble at such an awful hour in the morning to be listening to someone talk so much." Her fathers laugh, but she is not stupid; the laughs are forced and they are scared for her. "Goodnight," she finishes before turning and making her way back up the stairs.

She hears them call "I love you" after she reaches the top of the stairs and she smiles a terribly sad smile before entering her room. She is aware that sleeping is out of the question, but if worse comes to worse, there is always her music to keep her sane until the sun rises.

* * *

Rachel is being _extremely _silent, which is unusual, and Puck is kicking the back of her chair, but she is trying to ignore him because the last thing she wants to do is get sent to Principal Figgins' office for kneeing Puck in the groin so hard that he will be prevented from ever creating a child with his nasty sperm.

"Today, we are going to start preparing ourselves for Sectionals," are the first words out of Mr. Schue's mouth the moment he enters the choir room.

All conversations end at the words. She isn't surprised because the one thing that manages to shut up the entire glee club is talk of Sectionals, of any sort of competition. She likes the time around Sectionals, Regionals, and Nationals because these are the times when all the petty bullshit does not matter; all the break-ups, the damaged friendships, and the usual drama of high school does not matter anymore. Not in this room.

"Rachel, I want you to choose a solo," Mr. Schue tells Rachel. Quinn glance at the brunette, who looks nervous all of the sudden, which is not surprising because as far as Quinn knows, Rachel has never done this before. Quinn smiles reassuringly at her, letting her know that she will be there to help in any way that she can, but she knows deep down that Rachel does not need the help. She is spectacular, an artist in her own very special right.

"Yes, Mr. Schue," Rachel says professionally; almost too professionally, like she is speaking to an interviewer or someone who is deciding her fate. _Don't think that is adorable, don't think that is adorable_, Quinn's mental voice repeats over and over in her head, but _fuck, that is soooo adorable. _She thinks _Rachel _is adorable.

_Girl, you got it bad. _She shakes her head at herself. _Yeah, tell me about it._

"Mercedes and Sam, the two of you are singing a duet." Quinn smirks as she looks at the two. Sam's cheeks are as red as tomatoes and Mercedes is smiling shyly, which is a sight to see because Mercedes and shy just do not mix. She has a feeling about those two; they will definitely end up together.

"I want Puck to sing with Rachel." Puck leers at Rachel and Quinn is half-tempted to reach back and smack him so hard across the face that his head goes rolling, but she breathes in deeply and exhales quietly, forcing herself to stay calm. Puck is a womanizer, she has to remind herself of that, and he may be a jackass, but just because he leers does not mean he will plan a "Puckerone attack" on the girl that she has accepted is the girl of her dreams.

Rachel raises her hand and Quinn raises an eyebrow, her eyes never leaving Rachel as Mr. Schuester acknowledges her raised hand.

"Yes, Rachel?" He sounds annoyed, which makes Quinn want to slap him, too, because no one gets to treat Rachel such a way, but she has a feeling smacking her teacher would probably not be the smartest move she has ever made.

Besides, she knows how Mr. Schue gets around this time of year; he is always testy.

"Is there a possibility that you can rethink my singing a duet with Noah for Sectionals?" Quinn frowns. She knows that Puck can be intimidating at times, but he is in no way _all _bad. Her gaze falls on Puck and she swears she is dreaming, but he looks a little offended and slightly disappointed. Weird. One would think he has a soft spot for Rachel, but she knows better... or at least she thinks she does.

"Sorry, Rachel, I can't. Whatever you have against Puck, you will simply have to set it aside and deal with the problem at a later time. Your voices blend well together."

Quinn agrees. When Rachel and Puck sang _Just A Kiss, _their voices fit together perfectly, and she isn't going to lie, she was kind of jealous.

"Okay, Mr. Schue," Rachel mumbles her agreement, crossing her arms over her chest. Quinn cannot believe what she is seeing, but it looks to her like Rachel is _brooding_.

"For the final number, you will be performing a mash-up as a group." He claps his hands together. Quinn sees Rachel jump. She wrinkles her nose, confused. She has noticed that loud noises of any sort startle Rachel; she recalls a few weeks ago when she sat outside holding Rachel after the brunette had run out of her Calculus class because her teacher had dropped her ruler and it had made a loud sound.

Quinn wonders what went on in Rachel's past. She knows that her dads are not her biological parents; Rachel is adopted, not something that Rachel has told her, but something she guessed and the petite girl did not deny because honestly, what is the point in denying something that is obvious? Quinn may be a blonde, but in no way does she live up to the stereotypes of blondes. She is not dimwitted and blonde jokes drive her utterly insane because seriously, not every blonde needs a pair of headphones to tell her how to breathe and not every blonde is so dumb that she does not know how to change a light bulb and not every blonde...

_And your point? _She interrupts her own mental rant. Her point is that stereotypes are not relevant because no one person is the same, regardless of their hair color, gender, race, ethnicity, religion (she is proof of this because she is a Christian and the Bible teaches that homosexuality is wrong, but she says fuck the Bible because she is a homosexual and damn proud of it), or sexuality.

"All right, time to start practicing. Who wants to sing first?" Mr. Schue asks, clapping his hands together again and before Rachel even has the chance to jump, Quinn places her hand on top of Rachel's and squeezes hard, wanting her to _feel _that she is not alone and she has nothing to be afraid of.

Rachel looks at her and her smile is so big and beautiful that Quinn swears her heart is melting. She can see Santana giving her a knowing look and she tries not to laugh when the Latina winks, mouthing, "Wanky," before raising her hand along with Tina, Mercedes, and Kurt.

The majority of the club lets out groans, including herself, because they all know this is going to turn into a war about who gets to sing first. Mostly because Kurt and Mercedes are divas and she loves Santana, but Santana is a bitch. Poor Tina does not have a chance at winning this one, but Quinn doesn't have the heart to tell her even though she is technically the Head Bitch in Charge and she is not _supposed_ to be nice.

"Santana," Mr. Schue nods at Santana whose grin is wide and devilish. Quinn smirks because she can see Kurt glaring and Mercedes tapping her foot which is something she does when she is pissed, and she can see Tina pouting. She is happy for Santana despite their sour attitudes, however, because Santana is her best friend and she can sing her ass off.

Santana sprints over to the piano and sits on top of it. Brad does not look amused, but it isn't like Santana cares (Quinn wishes that she could be like Santana and not give two shits about anything), so she doesn't move.

"_You shout it out, but I can't hear a word you say,_" Quinn recognizes the lyrics to _Titanium _and smiles. When she first heard Santana sing, she was shocked, but the good kind of shock because _damn_, the fiery Latina has one hell of a smoky voice.

"_I'm bulletproof, nothing to lose... fire away, fire away," _she sings, gesturing to Rachel with her index finger, silently telling the brunette to join her.

Rachel raises an eyebrow, but she sings, "_Ricochet, you take your aim... fire away, fire away,_" as she stands and walks over to the piano, leaning against it. "_You shoot me down, but I won't fall. I am Titanium_," Rachel and Santana sing in unison, and she can hear the emotion pouring out of both of the girls.

She watches as they continue to sing, fascinated and captivated by both voices, but she won't lie, her gaze is mostly on Rachel the majority of the performance. One, because Rachel is beautiful and Quinn could look at her all day if it wouldn't be considered creepy, but also because of the way Rachel is singing the song, like she wrote it herself... like it was made specifically for her to sing.

"_Stone hard, machine gun fired at the ones who run_," Rachel sings as she blinks and Quinn swears that she sees a tear fall from her eyes, but the brunette hides it well. Quinn gulps. "_Stone hard as bulletproof glass,_" she sings and then Santana joins in again for the final chorus.

The applause when they finish is almost deafening and Quinn covers her ears as she stares at Rachel because she does not want to go deaf this close to Sectionals. That would royally suck. She is aware she is being over dramatic. She swears that Kurt is rubbing off on her; a scary thought.

The applause dies down and Quinn uncovers her ears as Rachel and Santana return to their seats. She tunes Mr. Schue out as soon as he starts speaking because he is mostly just ranting and if he says anything important (highly doubtful), she can ask Kurt to tell her about it later or Blaine because they are the only ones even listening.

"That was great, Rachel," Quinn compliments her friend (her friend that she cannot stop thinking about kissing because now that she's kissed Rachel, she realizes one kiss is not enough and she needs more like she needs air), trying not to make her worry evident even though she is aware it is a wasted effort.

Rachel's smile is halfhearted. "Thanks," she says quietly, eyes downcast.

"You okay?" The question leaves her mouth before she can think twice about it. She regrets asking instantly because she can spot the tense set of Rachel's shoulders and notices as Rachel moves towards the other end of her chair to where she is nearly sliding off, which Quinn knows is her way of trying to put as much distance between them as possible.

"I'm fine." Her tone is clipped and Quinn feels the urge to be a bitch because that is what she turns into when she gets attitude for what she thinks to be absolutely no reason, but this is _Rachel _and all Quinn wants to do is wrap her arms around her and tell her it will be all right even though she has no clue what is wrong in the first place and cannot promise that, anyway.

"If you say so," she grumbles because she can't just not get a jab in because she _is _Quinn Fabray, but the jab doesn't rid her of her worry and it doesn't tell her what is wrong and she wants to beat her head of a wall because she hates feeling helpless.

_This fucking sucks, _she thinks. _You'll live, Fabray. You want something to happen between the two of you? Make it happen. You're Quinn Fabray. So grow up and stop acting like you don't remember who you are. _She knows her mental voice is right. If she wants something to happen, if she wants Rachel to open up to her, she has to _act_.

So, she will. _Eventually._

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **This took forever and I apologize. Next chapter, there will likely be more of Rachel's past and a lot of Rachel and Quinn time because it is a Santana party and we all know a Santana party would be one helluva party. There will be a one week time jump, which there is a reason for that.

Thanks for the reviews. I'll update whenever possible.


	7. Party

Rachel won't look at her; she absolutely _refuses _to look at her and it has been going on like this for a week. A long, torturous week and not just for Quinn, but for everyone who has had to be around the blonde because she has not been Little Miss Nice Girl.

"Hey, Lady Lips, out of the way," Santana says and Quinn watches as shoves the poor boy aside. Kurt scoffs and she fights to hide her amusement as Kurt links arms with Mercedes and starts ranting about wrinkles and his designer clothing.

She swings her head around to look at Santana once everyone else, including Rachel who she really wants to talk to, but cannot talk to because Rachel is doing everything in her power to continue avoiding her, leaves the room.

"Okay, Quinnie, this _has _to stop," Santana starts in on Quinn, crossing her arms over her chest and staring Quinn down in that Lopez way that would be intimidating if Quinn didn't know Santana so well.

"What has to stop?" she asks like she hasn't a clue what Santana is referring to, though she isn't stupid and she does actually know; she simply doesn't want to talk about it.

Santana rolls her eyes. "Oh _puh-lease, _babygirl. Don't act like a dumb blonde bimbo bitch. You're better than that, Quinnie, and you know it."

Quinn shifts from one foot to the other, trying to keep herself moving so that she does not physically attack Santana because she does not need another trip to the Principal's office for getting into a girl fight.

"One, quit calling me Quinnie because it is an annoying nickname and makes me think way too much of my mother who I just want to forget," she says and Santana almost looks apologetic, but Quinn isn't buying it, "and two, I really don't know what you mean by 'this has to stop' because I really do not know what _has _to stop."

She is _maybe_ telling the truth. Maybe not. Okay, she is _not _telling the truth. She can admit at least that much to herself. She knows what has to stop is this whole spiel with her Rachel. Not that she knows what is going on because Rachel is always finding new ways of avoiding her and cutting her off mid-sentence whenever she does manage to be alone with her for more than five seconds. Something that is decidedly not an easy feat nowadays.

"My house. Tonight. Eight 'o' Clock. Bring KinderGrandma and tell Cripples McGee that, yes, he is invited because everyone is going to hear about this party and I know he is going to ask you about it." She smiles and Quinn shakes her head because she has no idea how she can be friends with someone who is so entirely evil (hence the nickname of Satan), but then she reminds herself that Santana is not too awful because she did ask her parents to let Quinn stay with them when Quinn's parents kicked her out and she helped Quinn accept herself for who she is (which is pretty impressive because Santana has not even accepted herself), so... yeah, Santana is not _totally_ evil. Just misunderstood (kind of).

"Her name is _Rachel, _San. Not KinderGrandma," she snaps, completely ignoring everything else Santana said. "Do you have to be a bitch to everyone? I think you need to relax on the name calling. I am Queen Bee and I'm not even on your level of bitchy." It usually wouldn't be bothering her so much, but Santana is being like, extra bitchy. Quinn knows why, of course. It is because of Brittany who has finally given Santana an ultimatum; she either has to come clean about her sexuality and the fact that she is in love with Brittany or no more "lady kisses".

"Fine, bring _Rachel_... that is if you can get her to talk to you long enough to actually invite her," Quinn ignores the metaphorical stab because she is trying to be a good girl, but Santana is definitely not helping her irritation. "Also, you are not on my level, Q, because my bitchiness is a defense mechanism," Quinn is not an idiot, she already knows this, "and yours is because you want to fit in so you don't leave high school a joke. And I am not judging you for it because leaving high school a joke would fucking suck and we all know that's going to happen to JewFro... and none of us want to be a JewFro."

Quinn can't fight it, she laughs because, honestly, Santana makes a good point... No one wants to leave high school as a JewFro.

"You through?" Santana moves her bag to her other shoulder, her expression blank. "I'll take that as a yes," Quinn mutters with a roll of her eyes. "No worries, I'll try to invite Rachel to your party. Thank God it is the weekend because Lord knows everyone is going to be on their asses before the night is over."

Santana smirks. "Is there any other way to end a night?" she asks teasingly before nudging Quinn in the side and turning on her heels. She looks over her shoulder. "You coming or what, Quinnie?"

Quinn bites down on her bottom lip as she takes a deep breath. _Don't snap, don't snap_, she repeats the mantra over and over in her head until she is calm. Well, as calm as she can be considering what is driving her insane.

"Yeah, ready," she says before walking out of the choir room with Santana. She has to invite the important people and then get home because she is going to make herself look so fine that Rachel will be physically unable to ignore her... She hopes.

X

"Welcome, party people!" are the first words Quinn hears when she enters Santana's house in Lima Heights Adjacent, not that she can hear much of anything over the music blaring through the speakers.

Santana's house smells of booze and cigarettes and sex, the typical Santana Lopez party smell. It would be disgusting if she weren't used to it.

Santana spots her in the crowd and dances over to her with a drink in each of her hands. She hands a red plastic cup to Quinn. Quinn sniffs the drink before saying, "Fuck it," and taking a large gulp. "Any sign of her?" she asks after swallowing down the liquor. The alcohol stings at first going down, but she finds that she likes when it stings.

"No, but when she sees you, no way will she be able to resist. I'm having a hard time myself," Santana half-teases, her eyes raking over Quinn's body before meeting her gaze again.

"Been there, done you," Quinn chuckles at the mock offense on Santana's face, "but thanks for the compliment, San."

Santana opens her mouth to speak, but Quinn puts a hand up, signaling for her to shut up after she raises her eyes and spots the one person she started looking for the minute she walked through the front door.

There Rachel is, leaning against the table with a red cup in hand (the drink is most likely virgin or soda because Rachel admitted that she doesn't drink) and _goddamn_, she wishes she could be that table right now.

Rachel's hair is down and wavy, and her dress is dark red and tight and she is wearing that dress like she is doing it a favor. She looks down and finds herself feeling like she is trying _way _too hard with her little black dress that she hates because she likes baby doll tops and cute sundresses.

Rachel looks natural, like she is meant to wear that dress. Quinn looks like an idiot. At least _she _thinks she does even though she has been told otherwise.

"What are you waiting for, dumbass?" Santana snaps, dragging the blonde from her thoughts. She gives Quinn a shove. Quinn glares, but isn't really upset. "Get the fuck over there before I snatch her up because girl looks damn fine in that dress."

She rolls her shoulders and takes a deep breath before telling herself to stop freaking the fuck out and starting to make her way over to Rachel.

* * *

"Hey there, beautiful." She looks up when she hears the voice, so familiar and so soft, like a lullaby. She misses the voice and its owner. _Quinn. _She licks her lips absentmindedly as she blatantly checks Quinn out. Her dress is black and she thanks God for whoever decided to make a dress _that short _and she thanks whoever sold Quinn that dress, because she looks stunning.

Not just stunning, but undeniably sexy.

"Hey," is all she manages to say because her mouth feels dry and she suddenly feels terrible because she has been avoiding Quinn and she hates herself for it.

Quinn has only been trying to help her, trying to find a way in, and she is doing what she does best and pushing her away. Which is unfair. "I'm sorry," she blurts when Quinn does not say anything.

"Sorry? For what?" She knows that Quinn knows why she is apologizing, but she understands why Quinn is asking. She deserves to hear why from Rachel's mouth.

"Let's not talk about it here!" she shouts over the music because it keeps getting louder and she can barely hear herself think, let alone hear anyone talking.

"What?" Quinn shouts back. Rachel merely grabs her by the hand, ignoring her squeak of surprise as she literally drags Quinn up the stairs and starts searching for an unoccupied room. After what feels like hours rather than a few measly minutes, she sees an open door and drags Quinn into the room, shutting the door behind her.

"I think you are really as crazy as everyone says you are," Quinn deadpans, but Rachel can see the sparkle of mirth in her hazel eyes. "So, why'd you drag me up here?" she asks seriously, and Rachel notices that their hands are still joined, but neither girl makes a move to change that.

"To have my wanton way with you," she teases in bad taste. She sees something unrecognizable flash in Quinn's eyes and before she can decipher the look, it disappears. She decides to ignore it. For now.

"No, really," Quinn says dryly and Rachel doesn't want to think it, but she thinks Quinn sounds a little testy. "Why are we here?"

She hesitantly releases Quinn's hand and walks over to the silk sheets-clad bed. She pats the spot next to her. Quinn eyes her before joining her on the bed.

"I am sure my behavior this past week has been confusing and definitely uncalled for, but I swear to you that I have not been avoiding you because I am upset with you or dislike you or-"

"Rach!" Quinn interrupts her, her lips twitching. "Take a breath and calmly explain. Besides, it's no biggie."

Rachel is skeptical. She does not say anything for a few minutes; she studies Quinn, who looks like she wants to say something, but does not say anything as they look at each other. She takes in her blonde hair, her hazel eyes, her tiny (cute) nose, and she thinks of the way this beautiful girl sitting beside her carries herself in high school, with her head held high and her hand on her hip as she struts down the hallway like she owns the place.

The Quinn sitting beside her right now is not a mirror image of the Quinn who walks the halls of McKinley High School. There is a vulnerability in the blonde's eyes that Rachel has never seen before; it somehow makes her more beautiful.

"You are a terrible liar, Quinn," Rachel says knowingly. "I know that my having avoided you is a big deal because there is something between us... something real. You cannot deny that because when I kissed you, you kissed back, and I know I pulled away but I grew scared because the way you make me feel is terrifying."

She hears Quinn's intake of breath and she does not make a move as Quinn intertwines their fingers. Quinn's hand fits perfectly in her own, like it was made specifically to be held by her.

"You don't have to be so scared, y'know?" Quinn flips Rachel's hand so that her palm is facing up and starts tracing patterns on Rachel's palm with her index finger. The action is soothing and Rachel feels herself calming slightly. "I've had my eye on you since I saw those legs," she says this while touching Rachel's thigh with her free hand. Rachel shivers as the blonde's fingers dance on the exposed skin of her thigh, "walking out of the showers." She smirks.

"I'm scared, too," Quinn admits bashfully, smirk gone. If Rachel is being honest, the admission surprises her. Quinn does not seem like the type to become easily scared, but it could just be a front and Rachel knows all about fronts. "The last time I tried to be with a girl, she cheated on me with a guy and with a girl, but I won't get into that again because I've already told you all about the train wreck that was me and Santana."

Quinn releases Rachel's hand and picks up tracing patterns on Rachel's thigh instead of on the palm of Rachel's hand. Rachel gulps. There is a warmth in the pit of her stomach that she has never felt before and the sensations from Quinn's touch are driving her wild.

"Still, despite that, I want to give you and me a shot," Quinn goes on. Rachel wants more than anything to agree to what Quinn is saying. She _wants _Quinn and sometimes she feels like she may actually need her, but she has spent the majority of her life teaching herself to not need others that she is unsure how to transition into a girl who allows herself to need others.

Sighing, Rachel shakes her head. She wants to give in, but she can't. It is not fair to Quinn because Quinn knows so little about her life. "You hardly know me, Quinn. There are certain..." She pauses. She does not like bringing up her past because her heart aches when she thinks of everything that could have gone wrong that did. "My past is ugly and I find myself unable to speak of it without falling apart and I am not ready to let myself fall apart in front of you because you do not deserve to carry such a heavy load when it is my-"

Soft, demanding lips smash onto hers and cut her off mid-sentence and she kisses back without a second thought. Quinn's arms wrap around her as the kiss deepens and Quinn lays back, pulling Rachel down with her, their lips never parting for even a second.

She breathes in, taking in the scent that is Quinn; vanilla with a small hint of cinnamon. So intoxicating that it is giving her a heady feeling. She can taste chocolate and alcohol on Quinn's breath and all she can think is that Quinn tastes perfect; Quinn _is _perfect or as close to perfect as one human can get.

She gasps as Quinn's lips move from her lips to her neck and she begins sucking and nipping at the exposed skin. She releases a moan of pleasure and even though it literally feels like it kills her, she forces herself to pull away and sits so that she is straddling Quinn, looking down at her.

Quinn is looking at her through half closed eyelids and Rachel touches her finger to her lips, reveling in the kiss they just shared.

"If you can promise to be patient with me, though I know it is unfair to ask of you to be patient when I am the most impatient person I know, I would _love _to take you up on your previous offer. I want to give this," she says, gesturing between the two of them, earning a grin from Quinn, "a shot. "

The smile that lights up Quinn's face is breathtaking. She opens her mouth as if to speak, but the door slams open, banging off the wall, and Quinn and Rachel both jump, startled.

Santana is leaning against the wall with a lit cigarette in her mouth. Rachel puts her hand to her mouth and stifles a cough. She cannot handle the stench of cigarette smoke, but she is not about to ask Santana to put it out.

Her cheeks are burning up as she realizes that she is still straddling Quinn and now Santana is in the room, which makes this extremely awkward.

"Didn't mean to interrupt." Santana's tone is flat and insincere. Rachel can be considered a lot of things, but she likes to think that naive is not one of them. Santana could not care less that she has interrupted Rachel and Quinn, which kind of irks Rachel, but because Santana scares her, she is not going to say anything.

"Just like you didn't mean to screw Puck and Brittany when you were supposed to be dating me?" Quinn fires at her. Santana's expression falters for just a moment as she blows smoke out of her mouth and Rachel thinks it is the most vulnerable she has ever seen the Latina, but the vulnerability disappears within seconds and bitchy Santana returns.

"See, that's the thing with you, San, you don't really _mean _a lot of what you do or say," Quinn continues and Rachel can feel the tension that fills the room as a result of her words.

She knows what went down between Santana and Quinn. She knows they have history, and she is starting to learn that, apparently, they have not completely let go of the past.

She can understand that. Sometimes letting go of the past can be nearly impossible. She is dragged out of her thoughts when she feels Quinn lightly press her hand against her stomach. Rachel catches on almost instantly; she is _still _straddling Quinn and she feels even more awkward than before because Quinn has been having an argument while she is in a very compromising position with her.

Rachel removes herself from Quinn and seats herself at the edge of the bed, throwing her legs over the side. She wants to make a break for it and get out of here so that she does not have to be a part of this argument that honestly has nothing to do with her, but she does not want to leave Quinn alone because she is almost positive Quinn is going to need someone after this argument ends... if it ever ends.

"Cut the crap, _Quinnie_," Santana seethes, her glare deadly. "You have everyone convinced that you are Little Miss Perfect, but you're not. The reputation you have is because of me. I taught you to be a bitch. Really, you're just like all the other pussies in school."

"You're drunk." It isn't a question. Rachel is not the one who speaks the words, Quinn does, but she can hear the slur in Santana's words and knows that the statement is justified.

"I am not," Santana counters, but the vulnerability from earlier returns and Rachel is surprised to see a few tears leave her brown eyes.

"Quinn," Rachel whispers when Quinn opens her mouth to, undoubtedly, verbally attack Santana once more, "please stop. I think she needs you. Be her friend. She could use one."

"But, Rach, what about-"

"We can talk about us later," Rachel interrupts her, giving her a chaste kiss before standing and walking over to the door. She offers Santana a sweet smile before leaving the room. She hopes she does not end up regretting leaving them alone, but she trusts Quinn. After all, she has not been given a legitimate reason to not trust her.

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **I lost so much inspiration writing this chapter, so it is merely "eh". There is a point to Santana interrupting them at the end. The Quinn and Santana thing has not been completely buried and they are going to hash it out next chapter, which will be a continuation with this chapter.

Thank you for the reviews.


	8. Are You Gonna Be My Girl?

"Talk."

"Fuck you."

"I said, _talk_."

"And I said, _fuck you, _which is talking," Santana argues, uncrossing her arms and lighting her fourth cigarette (she should say cancer stick because no way would she ever put one of those disgusting things in her mouth... too many chemicals and shit going into her lungs, so _no thank you_) of the night. Quinn groans and taps her fingers on the headboard of the bed she has been permanently attached to for most of Santana's should-be-epic party turned totally-lame-ass party.

(Fortunately for her, they are in the guest room and not in her bedroom which used to be a second guest bedroom, because if they were, she would be killing Santana for smoking in her room.)

Santana blows out a smoke ring and takes a few more hits before finally joining Quinn on the bed.

Needless to say, Quinn does _not _want to be here. She wants to be downstairs dancing with Rachel who she thinks may be her girlfriend, but she is not entirely sure of that because Santana rudely interrupted their conversation and decided to be a royal bitch.

She does not even know why she dredged up their failed attempt at a relationship. She could have kept her mouth shut and simply kicked Santana out of the room, but _no_, she chose to be Head Bitch In Charge Quinn and fired so many insults at the Latina that she actually hurt Santana's feelings, which is not easy because a lot of people make fun of Santana and she never reacts the way she reacted in response to Quinn's insults.

"Could you please put out your cancer stick?" Quinn asks, annoyed. She finds cigarettes to be downright disgusting. Santana merely takes another hit. "Or not," Quinn mutters under her breath.

"Fine, if you won't talk, then I will," Quinn decides aloud because she does not want to be away from Rachel for too long for fear that the brunette will grow entirely too exhausted (it is getting pretty late, after all) and leave the party. She looks at Santana, but Santana is avoiding her gaze; still, it doesn't deter her. "I know you, San, and because I know you, I know the reason you are drunk off your ass right now and being bitchier than you are on most days is because you are hurting. Severely. You can deny it all you want, but I know it to be the truth."

The calm expression on Santana's face is forced. "And I know you're hurting because Brittany wants you to out yourself," she continues when Santana does not say anything. She is shocked, really; Santana is hardly ever this silent, but she cannot say she is surprised. Santana claims to not do feelings on a daily basis.

"You don't have to hide anymore, Santana. I came out and it didn't kill me, and we all know that you're stronger than me so you'll definitely survive it, no questions asked," she goes on, her tone soft. Santana leans over and puts her cigarette out in the ashtray on the nightstand before hesitantly focusing her gaze on Quinn.

"I love Brit, Q, and I do not want to lose her, but I'm a bad ass and being a lesbo is just _not _seen as bad ass in high school." She is surprised at the pure heart and vulnerability in Santana's voice. This is definitely an unusual sight to see.

She takes Santana by the hand. Admittedly, it feels weird to her because she used to hold hands secretly with Santana all of the time. It takes her back to a time when she hid from the world; a time when she was happy and yet, undeniably miserable.

_"Hey, Quinnie!" thirteen year old Santana shouted from across the street of Quinn's house. Quinn jumped up from the sidewalk, where she had been practicing her cheerleading stretches. She was practicing to be the best so that she could be a Cheerio because the Cheerios were the talk of the small town of Lima. _

_Her smile was wide as she skipped across the street, her hand instantly grabbing the Latina's as she joined her on the sidewalk. Santana yanked her hand out of Quinn's grasp. Quinn tried not to let it bother her, but she felt the sting anyway. She had known that getting involved with a girl would be complicated because she and that girl (in this particular case, herself and Santana) would have to hide their relationship and not tell a soul (she and Santana had made a blood pact after having shared their first kiss), but that did not make it hurt any less. _

_"Don't look so sour, sexy," Santana winked, nodding towards the backyard. Quinn knew exactly where this one was going. "Let's go to the tent. They'll never know." _

_Something didn't feel right. In fact, their entire "relationship" felt all wrong, but she agreed, anyway. She always did. The two made their way across the street and into Quinn's backyard, instantly unzipping the tent and going inside, zipping it up once they had entered. _

_After they sat down, Santana grabbed Quinn's hand, and Quinn smiled, but it was not as brilliant as the one before had been. _

_"What is with the moodiness?" Santana groaned, letting go of Quinn's hand and caressing the blonde's face gently. She leaned into the touch, enjoying the feel of Santana's always soft skin. _

_The touch of a girl was different than a boy's touch. Santana did not feel the way that Finn (the first and only boy that she had ever kissed) had felt. His touch had been rough and awkward, but Santana's touch felt right and wonderful, everything that romance novels described the touch of a lover to be. _

_"No one likes a downer, Quinnie," Santana continued when Quinn still had not said a word. _

_"I'm not being a downer," Quinn said, grinding her teeth together; a nervous twitch that she knew was bad for her teeth, but could not seem to quit doing when she grew nervous or anxious. "I just... I don't want to keep hiding. Are we going to have to hide forever? Is what we have really that wrong?" Santana tried to respond, but Quinn did not let her get a word in. "I hate my beliefs for telling me I can't be myself. How is that right, San? Are we-" _

_Santana shut her up with her lips. Typical Santana, but Quinn found that she did not mind. She never did, as was the way._

_But not today. She pressed her hand flat against Santana's toned stomach (a stomach she found herself envious of, but also loved to touch and sometimes found herself never wanting to stop touching), pushing the darker girl away from her. "You can't do that every time a conversation gets serious between us, okay? I want to talk, Santana. About us and about what we're doing and about... coming out. I want to come out."_

_Santana was looking at her like she'd just told her that she was the next in line to become Queen of England or something equally as ridiculous. _

_"I'm not gay, Fabray, I've already told you that," Quinn didn't buy it; she hadn't since the first time Santana had kissed her. "Anyway, you can't come out. Your parents will disown you. They are a bunch of uptight Christian freaks." She paused. "No offense, of course." _

_"Right, of course," Quinn drawled flatly. It wasn't even that she was offended because she knew Santana was right; it was just that she hated that Santana was right. Her parents would never accept her, especially not her dad and her mother would listen to him and disown Quinn as well because her mother didn't know how to think for herself anymore. (Quinn was positive her mother had lost the ability to think for herself the minute she became Mrs. Russel.)_

_"Just forget that I said anything, San." She never should have brought it up in the first place. _

_"Will do," Santana said before yanking Quinn over to her and ravishing her with kisses. Not that Quinn was complaining. _

"You were right that day," Quinn blurts, causing Santana to look at her. "My parents are uptight Christian freaks and they did disown me, but one thing you forgot to add is that I would be happier regardless because at least I wouldn't be lying to myself and the people I love. So my parents kicked me out and I am living with you and I never get to see my family? At least I get to be myself and that is a lot more than you get to say for yourself right now, and I would rather be myself than listen to the rest of the word that is telling me I need to hide because of who I love."

"If you tell anyone I said this, I will fucking ruin you, but... you're right. I think... I think I'm ready."

Quinn throws her arms around Santana. "I'm proud of you, San."

"Yeah, yeah," Santana mutters, but Quinn can hear the smile in her voice.

* * *

Rachel watches in disgust as just another drunk girl falls onto the floor. She despises drunks; drunks and drug addicts. She grew up around alcohol and drugs for the first twelve years of her life and she made a promise to herself that she would never touch any type of alcohol or any sort of drug.

"Hey, A-Rach." Rachel smiles at the nickname and looks over to see Finn sitting beside her.

She considers Finn a good friend. Truthfully, she considers all of the glee club members to be her good friends, not counting Mercedes because she seems to honestly not like her because Mr. Schue is always giving her the solos (though, she does not even ask for them, they are simply handed to her, so she thinks Mercedes has no reason to hate her for something she has no control over), and now that she is thinking about it, she is not a huge fan of Kurt, either, because he is the most dramatic person she has met in all her seventeen years.

She, also, is not too fond of Puck, but when he is Noah, she realizes that she enjoys spending time with him.

"Are you ever going to let that go, Finn?" Rachel queries with a roll of her eyes. "I, personally, think you should let it go. I apologized, so let's be adults about this." She is mostly teasing. She is referring to an assignment they were given a couple of weeks ago where both the girls and boys were pinned against each other for a competition and both teams cheated using Vitamin D.

Finn has been calling her A-Rach ever since.

"Chill, _A-Rach_," she smacks him upside the head, but he seems unaffected, "we're cool. And there is no need to smack me."

"So, are you as excited for Sectionals as I am?" she wonders aloud, deciding to change the subject. "I will admit that I am somewhat nervous, but I'm entitled to be, I think. I have never participated in a competition before, especially not one so huge and it seems that glee club competitions are a big thing in this school."

"They are," Finn agrees. "Didn't used to be, but we changed their minds after the first year when we made it all the way to Nationals, and last year, we actually _won _Nationals. We're like, top of the food chain."

Rachel snorts. She is aware that the sound is unattractive, but she is not trying to impress Finn, therefore, she does not care.

"Is that so? I'm assuming Kurt had slushy thrown in his face twice last week because all of the popular kids enjoy being drenched in icy drinks?" she says teasingly, a smirk tugging at her lips.

Finn is clearly not amused, but she can see that he is fighting not to smile despite that.

"You're pretty chill, Rach," Finn compliments her; she blushes. "Oh, and to answer your question, Kurt probably had slushy thrown in his face because he takes Drama Queen to bigger heights."

Rachel fights to not spit out her Coca-Cola, but the attempt is a wasted one because she spits the drink out anyway and the liquid hits the floor. She swings her head around to look at Finn and says, "Don't you _dare _laugh, Jolly Green Giant."

Finn doesn't look amused at the nickname, but he laughs anyway. "Sorry," he apologizes halfheartedly. "You know... Quinn is one pretty lucky girl. You're so not crazy. Ignore Kurt. He can be a dick."

Her smile fades at the thought of Quinn, but it instantly returns when she hears, "Are you hitting on my girl, Hudson?" and feels a pair of arms wrap around her neck.

Quinn kisses the top of Rachel's head before moving from behind the couch to the front, giving Finn a deathly glare that Rachel is almost positive means that he better move or Quinn is going to choke him to death.

Not a pleasant thought, which is most likely why Finn jumps up almost instantaneously. Quinn takes his seat and scoots closer to Rachel, her leg gently bumping against Rachel's.

"Hey, beautiful," Quinn says softly when Finn says his goodbyes and joins the slowly dying party. "Sorry about Santana. She has no manners." Rachel blinks. She would talk, but she is positive that Quinn is nowhere near finished apologizing. "Don't get me wrong, she is a loyal friend unless you give her a reason not to be and she has a good heart, but she takes heartless bitch to a whole new level a lot of the time."

"Quinn, shut up," Rachel says, but she does not speak the words rudely. Quinn looks at her disbelievingly. "I don't want to talk about Santana. I want to talk about us because I think you asked me to be your girlfriend and I _know _I agreed, but correct me if I am wrong, because I do not want to overstep any boundaries or make you think I'm some weird girl, or-"

Quinn shuts her up with her lips. Again. Not that she is complaining. She enjoys kissing Quinn very much.

"You weren't mistaken," Quinn says against her lips. "I want you to be my girlfriend. If you want to be, that is," she continues doubtfully.

"Just kiss me, _girlfriend_," she demands (mostly serious, a little teasing). Quinn complies.

X

"My head is spinning," Quinn groans. Approximately four hours have flown by since she and Quinn made their relationship official and in those four hours, seven teenagers have soiled Santana's parent's carpets with their vomit (she cringes at the disgusting thought), she and her girlfriend (she enjoys how that word sounds in her mind and aloud) have made out heavily, and most guests have passed out in the living room or in the hallways.

She and Quinn walk, hand-in-hand, outside, where she spots Santana and Brittany cuddling on the hood of Santana's car. She sees Quinn smile out of the corner of her eye.

"Your doing, I presume?" she asks, focusing on Quinn, who looks even more beautiful under the pale moonlight.

"Yeah, I guess," Quinn says wistfully before looking at Rachel. "I really don't want you to go," she admits, sounding embarrassed.

"And I do not want to go," Rachel tells her truthfully, "but my cell has over thirty missed calls and considering how close it is to dawn, I have my suspicions that the missed calls are from Dad and Daddy... Mostly Daddy. I would rather not give them more of a reason to worry than I already have, being that I have been out most of the night into the early morning."

Quinn gently grabs one of Rachel's hands and pulls her closer, instantly wrapping her arms around Rachel's small waist. Rachel enjoys the way it feels when Quinn is holding onto her. She feels safe, like nothing can touch her or harm her, and she has not felt that way in quite some time.

"I still don't want you to go," Quinn says heatedly, and before Rachel can respond, Quinn is kissing her for the umpteenth time and she finds that she does not really mind because this beautiful girl is now her girlfriend and she wants to do this every day for as long as she possibly can.

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **I blame short and late chapter on lack of inspiration. I plan on writing, but the gaps in between updates may be growing larger, just a warning. I will finish this if it kills me, though.

Thanks for your support and the reviews.


	9. Sectionals

Tan skin.

Brown eyes, like a doe; doe eyes.

Shiny brown hair. Soft; she can run her fingers right through the shiny tresses.

A smile pulls at her lips as she watches her girlfriend dancing around the bus with her friends, the kids of New Directions. Kids who are happy and vibrant and that, for today, do not have a care in the world other than one, and that is to win Sectionals.

She wants to join in on the singing, but she is exhausted. She had not received much sleep the night before. On account of two things. One being that she, Santana, Brittany, and her girlfriend (she likes the word girlfriend and she has not stopped saying it for the past two weeks since she and Rachel made their relationship official at Santana's party) had stayed up most of the night talking and laughing and just enjoying each other's company.

It had been fun, spending time with Santana, Brittany, and Rachel. She hasn't seen much of San and Britt together in a while, but just as she and Rachel have been inseparable, so have Santana and Brittany because Santana finally came out so that she could be with Britt.

The other reason she is so tired is because the rest of the night, after the four girls had said goodnight and Santana had disappeared into her room with Brittany, Quinn and Rachel had made out for hours and then fallen asleep, but their sleep had not lasted long because Rachel had woken up screaming which had scared the living daylights out of the blonde. The rest of the night had been spent holding onto Rachel and whispering that everything would be okay even though she has no idea if that is true because she does not even know what is wrong.

She takes a moment to study her girlfriend more closely as the brunette continues to dance. She takes in Rachel's doe eyes, the way that the smile on her face does not reach them quite the way that it should, and then her eyes move to Rachel's mouth, the way her smile is big and bright, but still seems slightly forced. Her brightness is like a candle that is only half-lit or like a light bulb that keeps flickering on and off, teetering on the edge of dying.

The sight saddens Quinn. She wishes she could help. She wants to help, but helping is impossible without knowing what, exactly, is troubling Rachel, and Rachel can deny it all she wants but Quinn knows that something _is _troubling her. And it is not something minuscule. It is something serious; frighteningly so, she fears.

"Come on, Quinn!" The chorus of voices sing-songing her name and urging her to join in drags her from her thoughts. She does not want to join in because, again, she's exhausted, but one look into her girlfriend's eyes and she gives in, standing and singing, "_I don't ever want to let you down, I don't ever want to leave this town, 'cause after all, the city never sleeps at night._"

And that is how the long trip to Sectionals in Cincinnati, Ohio is spent, with singing, dancing, and eventually, snoring.

* * *

"There are so many people!" Rachel exclaims, slipping her hand into her girlfriend's as they enter the building they will be performing in for Sectionals.

Her heart is racing and her palms are sweaty and she is _excited_, which is fantastic because she had feared that after last night's episode, she would be a wreck.

But she isn't, which is good.

"You nervous?" Quinn asks, looking at her after roaming the room with her eyes. The others are chatting animatedly in their own little groups off in the center of the room while Mr. Schue and Ms. Pilsbury sign them in, but Quinn and Rachel are standing away from them, stuck in their own little bubble as has been the story since two weeks ago when they became "Faberry" (so dubbed by Jacob Ben Israel in his ridiculous blog).

"A little," she admits and it is the truth, but she isn't ashamed because this is her first competition and she thinks she has every right to be nervous. "Are you?"

Quinn laughs, as if she finds the idea of her being nervous absolutely absurd. Maybe it is. Rachel has noticed that hardly anything bothers Quinn; she's confident and that's a good thing. Rachel envies her for that and adores her for it just the same.

She cares a lot more for Quinn than she ever thought to be possible in such a short amount of time. She finds herself not wanting to be without Quinn, ever. She needs her. She doesn't like that, but it's the truth regardless and she's starting to find that she doesn't mind.

"Not really," she says with a shrug. "I know you're going to kill your solo," Rachel feels her face growing hot at the compliment, but tries to hide her blush even though she knows the effort is most likely a wasted one, "and you and Puck sound great together. Totally jealous, by the way, but I'll behave because we so need to win this and petty jealousy is just not important right now."

Rachel can't tell if Quinn is being serious or if she is joking, but she laughs just in case it is the latter. "Also, our group performance is bad ass. We have this in the bag. The Warblers are going to choke on their own words when we are through with them."

She laughs and pulls her girlfriend in for a quick kiss, which results in wolf-whistles and cat-calls. Of course, the second she kisses Quinn is the second everyone decides to start paying attention to them.

She rolls her eyes. "Shut up," Quinn fires at them before giving Rachel a smile and gently caressing Rachel's face with a brush of her fingers. "You're going to be fantastic," are the last words she gets in before Mr. Schue yells, "All right, let's gather up the troops and get to the green room! We have lots of pep talk before our performance."

There are a few groans of protest and a few laughs before Rachel, Quinn, and the others follow Mr. Schue and Ms. Pilsbury to the green room.

And yeah, Rachel thinks, she is totally nervous, but with Quinn by her side and her friends, she feels like she can do almost anything.

X

_Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out. _

"Breathe out, superstar!" Kurt yells, grabbing Rachel by the hands. She has started to hyperventilate; as it turns out, attempting to calm herself mentally is not as easy as she thought it would be.

Her gaze falls on the closed curtain momentarily before she looks at Kurt, forcing a smile onto her face. She and Kurt have actually formed an okay friendship over the past two weeks; granted, they still butt heads when Mr. Schuester chooses her for a solo or when she tries to give her two cents on an impromptu performance, but they are considerably closer than they were when she first joined the club.

She has found that they have lots in common, from their love of Vogue to their love of Broadway to their overt obsession with Barbra Streisand.

"I'm nervous, Kurt," she says hurriedly, her breathing not as heavy as before, thankfully, but still pretty uneven. "I have been informed by several of the other glee clubbers that my nerves are completely normal for a first competition performance, but I am afraid that my nerves are far from normal and that they are escalating out of control to the point where I cannot even think clearly and-"

"_Rachel_," Kurt cuts in, his voice firm, so firm that she snaps out of her insanity long enough to calm herself down to a normal level of nervous. "As much as it pains me to say this, and it does, it really does, you are going to do fantastic out there and we are going to win because of you. Your talent is impeccable and admittedly, it is why I have loathed you from the very day you auditioned for the club, but it is now one of the many reasons why I adore you. So, I want you to take a breather, calm yourself down, and go out there and kick some booty."

Rachel laughs, finally feeling confident that she _can _do this. "Thanks, Kurt," she says with a smile, placing a sloppy kiss on his cheek and causing him to wrinkle his nose. She laughs again before hearing Mr. Schue call her name, signaling that it is her turn to go out there and shine.

Her eyes meet her girlfriend's from across the room and the blonde smiles a smile so heartwarming and sincere and beautiful that it reinforces Rachel's thought that she _can _do this.

Music begins to play as the curtain starts to slowly rise. "_On my own, pretending he's beside me. All alone, I walk with him 'till morning_," she sings, pouring any and all real emotion she can muster up into the song. _  
_

She loves _Les Miserables_, she has since she was a little girl. She moves around the stage as she sings, giving the song her all, everything she has, while thinking of a time when she was little, a time during the bad where things almost seemed good. And things had been good, for a while, but she had learned the hard way that all good things come to an end.

Sometimes the really good times are bad times in disguise and no one will know until it is too late.

"_I love him, but when the night is over_," she continues to sing, focusing on the words and the faces of the audience watching her, cheering her on.

Soon, the song finishes and she is smiling a huge smile and the audience is on their feet, booming applause filling the room as they stand.

"Ladies and Gentleman," she starts as the applause begins to die down, "New Directions!" she yells, gesturing behind her to the closed curtain. The curtain rises as another song begins to play.

The night continues with her and the rest of New Directions performing their group performance of _It's Time _by Imagine Dragons and their set list comes to a close with Rachel and Noah performing a duet of _Little Talks _by Of Monsters and Men.

"That was awesome, you guys!" Mr. Schuester exclaims as the curtain closes and they all gather together backstage. "You did great and remember, it doesn't matter whether you win or lose. You will still leave here winners knowing you gave it everything you had."

"But we're totally going to win anyway!" Rachel hears Mike yell and she laughs as she gently grabs Quinn's hands, joining her where she is standing off to the side with Santana, Brittany, Mercedes, and Kurt.

"You killed it, Rae," Mercedes quips, giving her a soft smack on the back. She grins.

"'Cedes is right, Rach. You fucking blew away the judges out there," Santana tells her with a bright smile. The gesture surprises her, actually, because she's only ever seen Santana smile that brightly at Brittany.

"Yeah, what San said," Brittany agrees, her smile sweet and innocent like always.

"All right, all right, give my girl some breathing room," Quinn starts in on them when Kurt opens his mouth so as to speak. He frowns, but doesn't argue with her. None of them do. Rachel thinks it is probably because they know better. Sometimes she forgets that her girlfriend is the so-called Head Bitch in Charge at McKinley High.

"_Your_ girl?" she teases with a raised eyebrow after everyone disperses. Quinn pouts, which makes her think once again that her girlfriend is definitely adorable.

"Yes, _my _girl," Quinn growls (yes, _growls_, and Rachel finds it extremely sexy), grabbing Rachel by the waist and pulling her closer.

"What do you say we celebrate later tonight?" Quinn suggests and Rachel has a feeling that she doesn't mean an innocent type of celebrating. Not that she minds. Innocent is boring, anyway. "Just you and me? Regardless of whether we win or lose? We could always still make ourselves feel like winners."

Rachel bites her lip seductively before smirking. Her only response is to kiss Quinn flat on the lips. "I'll take that as a yes," Quinn says breathlessly after Rachel pulls away from the kiss.

Mr. Schue clapping his hands together loudly causes both girls to jump apart and the room fills with laughter at their silly actions before Mr. Schue forces them to calm down by saying, "It's time to get back on that stage. Reveal time!"

Quinn grabs Rachel's hand and they both follow Mr. Schue, Ms. Pilsbury, and the other members of New Directions onto the stage.

Rachel doesn't have a clue who is going to win. The other high school glee clubs were amazing, but she knows that no matter what, win or lose, she is part of something for once in her life and she wouldn't change her decision to join Mr. Schue's club for all the riches in the universe.

* * *

Her girlfriend is smiling, _really _smiling, and Quinn thinks she has never seen a more beautiful sight in her entire life. It has been hours since New Directions performed in Cincinnati and the group, along with their chaperones, is now at Breadstix enjoying a celebratory dinner.

Yes, _celebratory, _because they won _first place _and there is a tall, fat trophy at the foot of their joint tables to prove it.

Considering how many people there are in New Directions, plus the chaperons, they were forced to pull their tables together and make one, long table. Something the waiter obviously does not appreciate, but it isn't like any of them give two flying fucks about the waiter and his feelings.

Quinn is seated in the center of the joint tables with Rachel seated beside her (obviously) and Santana and Brittany seated on the opposite side. Quinn is fighting not to giggle at Brittany and Santana playing footsies under the table, but it is really hard to ignore when their feet keep accidentally touching hers and Rachel's, which prompts Rachel and Quinn to start playing footsies.

Only, everyone's feet keep touching the wrong person's feet.

"Quit playing footsies with my girlfriend, San," Quinn snaps playfully at Santana. She hears Rachel emit a soft giggle at her words.

Santana does not look amused, but Quinn can see through her tough expression; she is totally amused. "Only if you quit fucking playing footsies with mine, Quinnie," Santana snaps back just as playfully, and she sounds kind of angry, but the twitch of her lips gives her away.

"Lord Tubbington says that jealously is an ugly green monster... like The Hulk so please don't turn into The Hulk, S, because I love you but I don't like green," Brittany says seriously and everyone bursts out laughing. Even Santana is fighting back a laugh, but she just shoots everyone a glare and cups Brittany's face in her hands, that look in her eyes so familiar to Quinn.

It is the same look Quinn used to give Santana and vice versa, but now, for the both of them, those looks are reserved for other people. For their girlfriends.

Quinn finds that the thought does not sadden her. Who they are with now, she truly believes is who they were always meant to be with.

"I'm not going to turn into the ugly green monster, B. All right? I love you," she says sweetly. She grins wryly at the thought of Santana and the word "sweet" in the same sentence because they don't necessarily mix well together, but when it pertains to Brittany, Santana and "sweet" actually make some sense together.

The Latina and the ditzy blonde (she thinks this with all the love in her heart, but it is true, Brittany takes ditzy blonde to a whole new level) share a sweet kiss and Quinn fakes sticking her finger completely down her throat, making gagging noises as she does so.

Santana tosses her a glare and Quinn simply grins in response before kissing her own girlfriend.

"What was that for?" Rachel asks innocently. Quinn does not respond immediately; she studies her girlfriend, as she did earlier. What she sees is a smile that is real and bright, eyes that are a deep, beautiful brown and sparkling with a happiness that is nearly contagious, and all she can think is that she has no clue how she got so lucky or what she did to deserve such a wonderful, beautiful human being for a girlfriend.

She shrugs her shoulders, answering her girlfriend's question with, "I felt like it. Plus, you look beautiful."

Rachel ducks her head, as if trying to hide her blush, but her attempt is a failed one because Quinn can see the pink tinge on her girlfriend's cheeks and the sight causes her blooming smile to grow. "I-" she starts, but she gets cut off by Mr. Schue saying, "Okay, guys, it's time to go home. You did a fantastic job tonight and I will see you all next week for rehearsals. We have a lot of work to do if we want to kick ass at Regionals."

Everyone hoots and hollers at his words, but Quinn and Rachel remain quiet, just looking at each other, reveling in the wonder of each other.

She'll say what she wants to say one day. Someday. Because she means the words as she thinks them and Rachel deserves nothing more and nothing less than to hear how loved she is.

* * *

"Bye, guys. See you Monday!" Rachel exclaims as she climbs off the bus with Quinn, clutching her girlfriend's hand tighter as they descend off the last step and step onto the concrete.

They both wave with their free hands as the bus pulls away and then walk, hand-in-hand, towards Rachel's house and up the stairs to her front door.

Quinn stops her just as she reaches for the door handle and pulls her into her small frame. Rachel once again finds herself marveling at how perfectly they fit together.

"We won because of you, you know?" Rachel blinks at the words. The compliment is a great one; it feels heavy on her chest. She isn't used to compliments. Sure, her Dads hand them out to her on a daily basis (she appreciates them and she believes their words, but they're family and she doesn't think it counts) and every once in a while, Denise compliments her (they fight more often than not, however, but they are sisters and she doesn't mind because it makes her feel almost _normal_), but Quinn's compliments are different. Compliments from her friends are different. Because she's not used to it and she doesn't know if she ever will be.

And it's sad.

"You don't honestly believe that, do you?" She asks the question, but she doesn't know why she does because she already knows what Quinn will say. She will say that _yes_, she does believe the words, wholeheartedly, because they're true, but Rachel still won't believe her.

"Mike's impeccable dance moves were a contributing factor, as were Brittany's," she goes on to argue that it was not just her who won them the competition, but the group in its entirety, "and Noah's husky tone," which is, admittedly, very attractive, even to her, "and Santana's raspy voice definitely did us some good. You cannot deny that, I do not care what you say."

"I agree with you, of course," Quinn says sincerely, but Rachel can hear the unspoken_ but_ in her words, "but," and there it is, she thinks with a small chuckle that causes Quinn to arch her left eyebrow, "you were the deciding factor. I don't doubt that and nothing you say will make me change my mind, so don't bother trying."

Her words are slightly teasing, but mostly serious, so Rachel does not bother to continue arguing.

"Thank you," she responds softly, unsurely. Her girlfriend frowns at her obvious hesitance to accept the compliment handed to her, but she does not say anything more; she simply pulls Rachel in for a kiss that leaves her feeling breathless afterward.

"Ready to go inside?" Rachel nods, taking Quinn by the hand as she opens the door and pulling her inside, but the second she steps through the door and her eyes fall on the couch, her grip on Quinn's hand tightens, so much so that she can see her girlfriend wincing.

"Hello, Rachel," the woman on the couch says, standing up. Rachel looks at her Dad and her Daddy who both look like they do not know what to say.

She squeezes her eyes shut tightly. She can hear Quinn and her dads and _that woman _saying her name, but she blocks them out, squeezing her eyes shut even tighter, trying to force the woman away. Maybe she is just a figment of Rachel's imagination. Maybe her nightmares are entering her daily life. However, when she opens her eyes, she knows that is not the case, and all she can do is glare at her Dads because _how dare they _and all she can do is glare at that woman because-

She lets her thoughts trail off as she snaps, "What the _fuck _are you doing here?"

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **Cliffhanger time! Who is the woman in Rachel's living room? Prepare for Rachel's past to _finally _start being revealed in much, much more detail. Warnings: her past includes a lot that may not be suitable for younger readers to read about.

I apologize for the late update. Inspiration hit out of nowhere after nearly eighteen days and I am hoping it sticks. We'll see. I am finishing this story, though, regardless of how long it takes, and I appreciate those who are sticking with me on Quinn and Rachel's journey to each other and Rachel's journey to healing.

Thanks for the reviews. Much appreciated.


	10. Maybe

_"Rae-Rae, sweetheart, I want you to meet someone!" eleven year old Rachel's mother yelled from downstairs. Rachel looked up from her textbook, dangling her pencil in mid-air as she stared forlornly at her bedroom door. _

_She did not want to meet whoever it was that her mother had downstairs with her. It was probably another man; just another man to use her and abuse Rachel._

_"Rae-Rae, I said that I want you to meet someone!" her mother screamed. Rachel immediately dropped her pencil and slammed her textbook shut. _

_She knew that specific tone; it was an order, not a suggestion. _

_Rachel breathed in deeply before exhaling sharply and making her way out of her bedroom and down the stairs into the living room._

_Her mother was seated on the far left end of the couch and leaning against the arm of the couch was a man. He was tall, Rachel noted; taller than the last one. Her gaze fell to his hands momentarily and she fought not to imagine all the ways that they could hurt her. _

_She quickly looked away from __his hands, meeting his gaze. She was surprised by what she saw there; such kindness, such sincerity. Two aspects of a person's personality that she had not seen in the eyes of her mother's previous boyfriends._

_"What's your name?" she asked him hesitantly, quietly. _

_He grinned a toothy grin and Rachel felt herself relaxing. For the first time in years, she felt like maybe she could actually trust one of her mother's boyfriends and that was a nice feeling. Maybe their lives could actually change. _

_"Taylor," he responded, extending his hand for her to shake. She glanced at her mom, who was smiling, silently urging her to shake his hand. Her brown eyes, eyes that matched Rachel's so perfectly, were pleading with her daughter. _

_She grabbed his hand firmly and shook it, and for the first time in years, both Rachel and her mother were smiling smiles that reached their pretty brown eyes._

Taylor; Rachel shudders at the thought of him, but he is all she can see as she looks into the eyes of her mother. Taylor, who was supposed to be different. Taylor, who Rachel shook hands with and trusted and who used those same hands she shook that day to scar her for life.

"Rachel," Quinn's soft, sweet voice tears her from her thoughts. _Quinn_. She does not want Quinn here for this. Quinn does not need to meet her mother. Her mother does not deserve to meet Quinn, someone so innocent and pure and sweet. She does not need to ruin Quinn liked she ruined her own daughter.

She drags her girlfriend to the door, ignoring Quinn's squeak of protest and her Dad and Daddy's eyes on her and her mother's eyes as she does so.

She takes both of Quinn's hands in her own, searching Quinn's eyes, which hold a mixture of confusion and concern. "I need you to leave," she says. She does not speak the words harshly; she speaks them regretfully, sadly. The hurt that flashes over her girlfriend's face is enough to shake her, enough to make her want to take the words back, but she doesn't. She cannot.

"But, Rach-" Quinn starts to protest, but Rachel interrupts her, adding, "Please, Quinn, do this for me. It isn't that I want you to leave, it is simply that I _need _you to," not really, she needs her here, but she cannot admit to that because she is not strong enough to handle such an admission, "because she isn't safe or good and I don't want you to meet her because you are good and safe and kind. All personality traits that she will strip from you."

She thinks she sounds melodramatic and silly, but she does not care. She has to keep Quinn away from her mother, away from her horrible past.

"Who is she?" Quinn asks quietly, not listening to Rachel and leaving like Rachel asked her to.

Rachel opens and closes her mouth a few times, contemplating lying, but for only a millisecond because this is _Quinn_, her girlfriend, and Rachel does not want to lie to her. Not her. "My mother," she responds tersely, her lips pursed.

The blonde's hazel eyes widen considerably, but Rachel ignores the girl's silent questioning. "Please... go," she begs and she sounds tortured to herself. Probably because she is; she does not want Quinn to leave and she wishes she would stop talking, but she knows this is for the best.

She thinks.

"Okay," Quinn replies weakly, and it takes a few, long, torturous seconds for Quinn to release her hold on Rachel's hands, and all Rachel wants for her to do is to say that no, she will not go, and for her to realize that what she means by "please go" is "please stay, please, _please_ stay with me".

But Quinn releases Rachel's hands and she doesn't say that she won't go. She opens the door and walks out, not looking back as she does and when she shuts the door, Rachel is snapped out of her trance and forced to face the reality of the scene she has returned home to.

Hesitantly, very slowly, she turns and focuses her attention on her Dads and the woman that she has always been convinced she would never see again, but she's here and Rachel knows no matter how many times she shuts her eyes, no matter how hard she prays, this is not a dream.

It is her nightmares come true.

"You have yet to answer my question," she states coldly as she looks at her mother, referring to her previous rudely stated question, the one that she asked when she first entered her house and saw her mother in her living room.

She is surprised that her Dads have not reprimanded her on her use of such foul language upon entering their home moments ago, but from the expressions on their faces, she gathers that they feel far too guilty to call her out on something as small as her unnecessary use of profound language.

"Rae-Rae," she winces at the nickname; it feels like cold ice is poking at her skin, pricking her painfully, "I-" Her mother pauses and Rachel waits for her to continue, not wanting to say anything because she does not have anything to say.

Only, that is not true and she knows it. She has so much to say, _too much_, and she knows that if she were to start talking, she would not stop for a very long time because she would not make her speech short and sweet. It would be long, sad, and filled with anger and betrayal and so much pain.

She tries not to think of that, though, because she will not be making that speech anytime soon. Or ever.

"I am not going to pretend for one second that you would ever forgive me for the hell I put you through," her mother tries again and Rachel feels herself choking up at the words; her eyes are watery and her palms are sweaty and she feels like she could break at any moment, "and I am not asking for your forgiveness right away and I will completely understand if you can never forgive me no matter how much that would break my heart, but-"

"Break your heart?" Rachel cuts in. She sounds hysterical even to herself. Her Dad is standing, looking like he is about to cut in or attack (not that he would ever hit a woman, but Dad is fantastic at verbal battles), and Daddy is standing beside him, his hand clutching his husband's shoulder, no doubt as an attempt to calm her Dad down.

"It has been three years since you have been in my life," Rachel continues bitterly. "If you want to be more specific, however, it has technically been fourteen because you quit being in my life the minute that my father was killed. You grew distant and you never listened to me," her hands are flying all over the place and tears are streaming down her face and she feels crazy, but she doesn't care, "and you let them... you... y-you..."

Her words trail off as her breaths become uncontrollable. Her Dad and Daddy are on opposites sides of her in, quite literally, the blink of an eye, their arms wrapping around her instinctively and simultaneously. Her Daddy rubs soothing circles on her mid-back while her Dad whispers to her to take a deep breath and tells her that everything is going to be okay, so she should just calm down before she makes herself sick.

She _feels_ sick. She feels sick and she feels a little bit numb. The tears have stopped falling. Her mother looks like she is at a loss for words and the sight makes Rachel chuckle. The sound is _odd_, not like Rachel; too bitter and she is not a bitter person.

This is her mother's fault. _Everything _is her mother's fault. The way she pushes people away, people who try to care, even her wonderful girlfriend who has never done anything to hurt her in the time that she has known her... it is all her mother's fault. Her mother, who never really raised her, who was never there when she should have been, who never _believed_ her...

"I hate you," Rachel seethes before yanking herself away from her Dad and Daddy and storming out of her front door, not caring that she is still in her Sectionals uniform and not caring that she has no place in mind to go. She only knows that she cannot be at home because with her mother there, home does not feel like home.

She has never made a home an actual _home_ for Rachel.

"Rachel!" She is halfway down the street when she hears the shout. She scrunches her nose up out of confusion and whirls around, finding herself face to face with her girlfriend. Her girlfriend, who she had been convinced had left. But she hadn't.

"God, Rachel," Quinn breathes, and the sound in her voice is _so sad__. _"Have you been crying? What happened? And your mom, Rachel... why haven't you ever said anything about her? What did she do to you? Rach... why did you ask me to leave? Why-"

"Quinn, stop," Rachel pleads with her, interrupting her girlfriend. The onslaught of questions is too much for her frazzled mind.

"To answer your ridiculous amount of questions," Quinn chuckles at Rachel's words, but Rachel is not an idiot, the sound is definitely forced, "yes, I have been crying, but it is not that big of a deal," _lie_, "and what happened is that my mother has shown up out of nowhere after three years of no contact whatsoever and I am unsure how, exactly, to handle the situation, and I have yet to tell you about her because she is not worth talking about."

Rachel takes in the way Quinn is playing with the hem of her shirt and the way she is nervously chewing on her bottom lip (which is _very, very _sexy, but Rachel tells herself not to go there because this is clearly a serious moment in their relationship) and knows that her girlfriend wants to argue with her, but she won't. She never does.

Sometimes, Rachel wishes that she would.

"You don't have to hide from me." Quinn brushes her thumb against Rachel's cheek before gently cupping Rachel's face, forcing the brunette to look her in the eyes, and as much as Rachel tries not to, she looks because Quinn's eyes are beautiful and hazel and right now, they have a look in them she has never seen before.

A new look of determination, stronger than the determination that is usually there when she is in HBIC mode. This is a softer look of determination, a more sincere one. Meant for helping, not hurting.

"Whatever happened in your past, Rachel, it does not define who you are now," the blonde continues and Rachel allows the words to sink in, "and all I am asking is for you to let me in. I care about you," she can hear the unspoken words there, those three words that mean so much and she knows that if Quinn were to say them, she would repeat them and she would mean them with her whole heart, but now is not the right time, "and I just want to know you, all of you, because most days, I feel like I don't and it hurts me to not be able to help you. I can't help if I don't know what the problem is."

Instead of saying anything, Rachel grabs Quinn and pulls her close, so close that there is no space in between them. She covers Quinn's mouth with her own, not caring that they are in public and forgetting all about her qualms with PDA as she kisses her girlfriend hard and deep.

She is directing everything she is feeling at Quinn. The anger, the pain, the frustration, the betrayal, the confusion, _everything_. And she knows it is wrong, so wrong, to take it out on her girlfriend, but this is the only way she knows how to do it without shattering. She does not want to become a broken shell, and if she is going to lose herself, she would rather lose herself _in_ Quinn than lose herself in such an awful way that she would never be able to find herself again.

Her hands are moving awkwardly along Quinn's sides because this is new and she's never done this before. She's considered doing it before (yes, it, _it_; she is a virgin and she is not ashamed of said fact). _Of course _she has because she is a teenager and she has a hot girlfriend and said hot girlfriend has more-than-nice lips and a gorgeous body.

"Your room," Quinn whispers heatedly against Rachel's lips and all Rachel can do is nod dumbly in response before kissing her again, moving with her to the back of the house, where they can enter the house through the back door and not be seen by her Dads and she-who-must-not-be-thought-of-or-named-because-she-would-ruin-the-perfect-moment.

The two tiptoe up the stairs quietly, hand-in-hand, past Denise's room and past Rachel's Dad and Daddy's room and into Rachel's room.

They are back to touching each other everywhere that is physically possible the second that Rachel's bedroom door is shut and locked.

Rachel gently shoves Quinn onto her bed, feeling brave and bold and _sexy_ because she has this brave, bold, and sexy girl on her bed that likes her. Really likes her. A girl who makes her feel happy even when it feels like happiness is far, far away off in another land. A girl who cares about her and who is more patient with her than she feels she deserves on most days.

She pulls her shirt over her head and tosses it aside, watching as Quinn licks her thin lips (thin, perfect, kissable, beautiful lips), gesturing with her index finger for Rachel to join her.

Rachel doesn't hesitate, she moves closer to the bed and climbs onto it, maneuvering herself so that she is hovering over Quinn. She is acutely aware that she is topless and that Quinn has far too much clothing on and she's not sure that they should be doing this, but she wants to _so badly_ because she wants Quinn and she has wanted her like this and in so many other ways since day one.

Quinn arches her back off the bed and then pulls Rachel down with her, her lips crashing onto the brunette's roughly, probably bruising them in the process, but she doesn't care because she feels _so good_.

"God, you're so beautiful," she manages to get out in between heated kisses and soft moans of pleasure escaping from both girls.

She slides her hands up Quinn's shirt, running her hands along her girlfriend's nicely toned stomach and enjoying the way she shivers underneath her.

"Are you sure... I mean, do you want to?" she sputters nervously because she does not want to do this unless Quinn wants to. She doesn't want to push and she knows that they were just talking and that Quinn isn't completely happy because Rachel hasn't one-hundred percent opened up to her but that doesn't change that Rachel _wants to_ and she swears that someday she will.

"I'm sure," Quinn says and Rachel watches as she slowly, so very slowly, pulls her shirt over her head, mimicking Rachel's earlier action of tossing her own shirt aside before pulling Rachel down again and kissing her sweetly. The kiss lingers between them before it grows more passionate, more demanding.

She does not know what this will mean for them, she does not know where they will go from here because there is still so much they have yet to learn of each other, but she does know that she loves Quinn (and she will tell her, someday) and that's good enough for now. More than good enough.

* * *

Elated, that is how Quinn feels. Any tension, any negative feeling she was feeling before joining her girlfriend in her room are gone, so far gone.

She has had sex before, she isn't going to lie, and Rachel knows that. Quinn made it a point to tell Rachel that she lost her virginity to Santana when she was thirteen, but with Rachel, everything is different, stronger.

Not to say that what she felt with Santana wasn't real because it was, but _this_, this is the real, _real_ deal. The everlasting kind. She can _feel _it.

She felt it in the way Rachel touched her, the way Rachel knew which buttons to push. Quinn knows Rachel is not as experienced as her, but Rachel sure as hell could have fooled her because what she did was fucking _amazing_.

"You're amazing," Quinn whispers for the umpteenth time, curling further into Rachel as the brunette pulls the covers over their naked bodies, and it feels nice. It feels nice to be able to lie with a girl, to not have to hide. It feels nice to be in a _bed _as opposed to a tent or a car or a backyard and to cuddle and to feel such a strong connection with someone.

She wants Rachel to open up to her; she knows this is how they got here. They got here because Rachel wants to avoid (that, and because they both have wanted each other from the second they laid eyes on each other) her past for a little while longer, but she doesn't mind. How can she mind? She's with a beautiful girl whom she loves, a beautiful girl she wishes she could say those three precious words to, but she can't because there is so much she doesn't know and she wants to know it all before she breaks out the words that may make Rachel run.

At the thought of Rachel running, she swears her heart breaks, so she shoves the thought aside, wanting to enjoy this moment with her wonderful, totally gorgeous girlfriend.

She thinks Rachel looks even more beautiful at this particular moment. She wants to take a picture, but since she knows Rachel will not let her even if her life depends on it, she simply takes a mental picture and she knows it will stay in her mind forever. Or, at the very least, in the back of her mind, never to leave completely and there for her to bring back to the surface whenever she very well pleases.

Rachel's brown hair is a mess and there are sweat beads on her forehead and there are hickeys on her neck (Quinn smirks at the sight of them and she is sure that Rachel left plenty marks of her own all over Quinn's skin; she shudders pleasurably at the thought). She looks so beautiful, so _real_.

The room smells of the vanilla candles Rachel lit and Rachel's perfume that has faded slightly because of the sweat and of _Rachel_.

She thinks she likes the last scent the most of all.

She hears Rachel yawn and sighs sadly. She wants to talk, but she does not want to push. So she won't. For the moment.

She places a kiss on Rachel's nose and Rachel giggles. "Can we talk tomorrow? Please?" She does not want to sound like she is begging, but she is sure it is obvious that she is.

"Maybe," is all Rachel says before kissing her softly and shutting off the light, pulling her as close as she possibly can. Quinn sighs into Rachel's touch, their legs entangling together and the warmth from Rachel's body providing her more warmth than the blanket.

She feels content, more than content. "Goodnight, gorgeous," she whispers and she feels Rachel press a sweet kiss to her collarbone.

"Goodnight, my hazel-eyed beauty," Rachel whispers against her skin before they both drift into what Quinn is convinced is the best sleep she has had in weeks.

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **This did not turn out the way that I wanted to. I did not intend for Rachel and Quinn to have sex, but hey, whatever, it was bound to happen anyway.

Rachel really is hesitant about opening up, but she is going to start, little by little, next chapter. The woman from the last chapter? Rachel's mom. I don't know how to feel about Rachel's mom, really. The way I have written Rachel's past, I must say I am not fond of the woman.

Thanks for the reviews. Stick around for the next chapter.


	11. Little Talk

"I was three when he died." Quinn opens her eyes, blinking the sleep from her eyes as she tries to sit up, but Rachel's hand on her arm stops her and she just ends up curling into her girlfriend like the night before.

At the thought of the previous night, she grins stupidly. She swears that she can still feel Rachel's fingers dancing along her stomach and arms, Rachel's lips leaving kisses all over her exposed skin, and she can still smell the wonderful smell of Rachel, the pure _her_. So intoxicating, so fulfilling.

"Quinn?" The voice that she cannot erase from her mind, that she does not want to erase, forces her out of her thoughts and that is when Rachel's first words register in her mind, the words that woke her from her peaceful sleep.

"He who?" she asks, confused, her brows furrowing slightly because she doesn't understand and she's starting to think that maybe she never will.

But then again, she thinks maybe this is Rachel's way of throwing her a bone and she should probably catch it before Rachel changes her mind and shuts off again.

"My father." Her voice is soft, barely above a whisper and Quinn decides to lean closer, wanting to hear every word that Rachel says, wanting to take it all in because she wants Rachel to know that it is important. She wants Rachel to know that _she _is important.

There is a brief pause between those words and the words Rachel says next. The blonde does not talk. She lies with her girlfriend in silence, wanting to give Rachel the time she needs, _needing _to give her the time because Rachel possesses a fragile soul. She presents herself with a tough exterior, and Quinn understands that because she does also, but in a different way than Rachel. Her tough exterior is masked by hostility and a bitchiness that pushes those the high school social ladder convinces her she cannot associate herself with away.

Rachel's, on the other hand, is masked with a quiet toughness and an aura of false confidence that can be seen through if one looks closely enough.

She pushes those who want to care about her away in a gentle way that does not really appear to be pushing, but is pushing regardless of its appearance and it is the subtle air that makes it appear easier.

"He was a police officer. A great one, according to the town I lived in." Her words break the silence, but the dramatic pauses between her words make Quinn feel like she is starring in a film Noir; the mystery is heart-stopping and keeping her on the edge of the bed. So to speak. "I do not remember much about him. I wish that I could. I wish I could remember the happy times because, after his death, they were few and far between."

Rachel is talking quietly and she sounds like she is telling a story rather than the facts of her life. She seems separated from that girl, the Rachel from the past, the girl she is fighting so hard to escape from and bury.

Quinn feels her heart breaking and she grabs Rachel's hand underneath the covers, trying to comfort her in a small way, in _any _way, but she feels like it is not enough, like nothing can be _enough_.

"After my dad died, a part of my mother died with him. The good part." Quinn tries to pull Rachel closer, but she pulls away, squeezing Quinn's hand tighter afterwards as if sensing Quinn's disappointment. "She was still a mother. She still took me to head start, she still made me breakfast in the mornings, she still braided my hair, but her smile was never as beautiful and it used to be _so_ beautiful.

"All her teeth would show and they had been _white, _white as snow, and it had reached her eyes, eyes that she used to tell me are the same as mine and hold the curiosity and the pureness and the pain and the beauty of the whole world in them. She told me never to listen to anyone later on in my life if they tried to tell me that brown eyes mean that I am full of shit," Quinn manages a small chuckle at that, but it is weak because she can feel the pain and the _loss_ in the words, "and I listened to her because I looked up to her, but then she met _him_. The first Joe."

Quinn feels even more confused after that last sentence. _The first Joe_. She thinks over the statement but she cannot decide what it means and she supposes she will not know until Rachel tells her, if she ever does.

And she does. "His name really was Joe, unlike the men who came after him, but I'll get into that at another time." Her tone is so matter-of-fact, so business sounding, and Quinn wishes she would stop and just _feel_, but at least Rachel is opening up to her a little bit. And a little bit is better than none, no matter how the opening up is being done. Even without the feeling, it is enough. It's a start.

"I don't remember him much. I was only four when she brought him into our lives." By this point, Rachel isn't looking at her; she is staring straight ahead at the wall. She wants to make the brunette look at her, she wants to see what is in those doe eyes of her girlfriend's, but she won't push. They're finally getting somewhere and she fears if she pushes, it will stop.

"She started doing drugs, picking up on the life she had before she met my father," Rachel continues with her story, her tone more distinct, louder. Still monotonous. "He sold drugs. He was a horrible man. He would lock me in my room and force me to fend for myself when he was babysitting me while my mother was off at work. Five months into their twisted romance, my mother lost her job and we were forced to move in with Joe on the wrong side of the tracks, far away from my home in Phoenix.

"There... Joe started beating me." She says the words hesitantly. It is almost like Rachel is thinking that if she says the words too quickly, or too loudly, she will conjure him up and he will be in her room, hurting her again. Abusing her.

Quinn feels like her heart has dropped into her stomach. Rachel has been _beaten_. _Her _Rachel. Her sweet Rachel who does nothing but care for her friends, her family, and has so much love in her heart to give and expects none of it in return.

The blonde Cheerio starts to hum, a tune entirely too familiar to her; something her mother used to sing to coerce her into sleeping at night when she was too fussy or too sick or too emotionally wounded by the bullying (bullying which, in turn, caused her to be a bully).

"_It will be all right,_" she sings softly, running her fingers through Rachel's tangled bed hair. She hears Rachel hum contently and she sees the weak smile pulling at the girl's lips. It may be weak, but at least it's there. "_Don't cry, my darling. Smile and it will be all right in the morning._" Her mother used to be awful at rhyming; she feels sadness at the thought of her mom, her mom who she misses terribly even though she abandoned her. But that's not the point because she's family and family is family, through thick and thin. Through blood and tears.

"_Just smile my dear and don't shed a tear_," she continues to song. She sees a single tear trail down Rachel's cheek and brushes it away with her thumb, stroking her cheek gently. "_For I am here, I am always here,_" she finishes and she means the words with everything she has because she will _always _be here for Rachel. Always.

* * *

Rachel blinks, her eyes adjusting to the light and her vision slightly blurred as she tries to make out the numbers blinking on her alarm clock.

When she awoke earlier, it had been slowly approaching dawn; it had still been dark outside. Bright light is now peeking in through her blinds, trying to fight its way into her room and she is fighting to ignore the brightness because she is only half-awake.

She looks at the clock again, finally able to make out the numbers. It is past noon on a Sunday. She hardly ever sleeps in this long; actually, she _never _sleeps in this long. She has a strict routine starting at six a.m. every day, but she thinks today is a suitable enough day to make an exception. Especially after the night she had.

She grins a lopsided grin at the thought of her night. She doesn't feel much different. She has been told many times in her life that sex changes a person, morphs them into someone else. She feels tingly all over and she feels lighter somehow, but that is about it.

Maybe that's because she hadn't let Quinn touch her, not below the waist. She had tried to let her, she had _wanted _to let her, but... she just couldn't. Not yet. It is too soon, too hard.

So, she had touched Quinn. All over. She closes her eyes, picturing Quinn in her mind. She has memorized every scar, every bump, every bruise, every curve... _everything_.

She scoots over and that is when she realizes that she is alone. Her heart sinks and she swallows hard because _oh god, she screwed it up_, but then she looks to her right and Quinn is sitting at her computer desk with just a t-shirt on and she licks her lips because that shirt definitely looks better on Quinn than on her. _  
_

"Hi," she says shyly as hazel eyes meet her brown eyes. "How long have you been up?" she asks, sitting up on her bed and pulling the covers over her body as a way to protect herself even though she does not need protecting because she is aware that Quinn has no intention of harming her or hurting her in any way.

"A few hours," her girlfriend says with a shrug of her shoulders. "Your Dads saved you a plate at the breakfast table. They went out grocery shopping and wanted me to tell you that they should be home by two," she adds, tossing Rachel her bra, shirt, and boy shorts.

Rachel catches the articles of clothing and sends her a grateful smile before starting to dress herself under the blanket. "Is..." She pauses. She wants to ask, but she is terrified of the response she may or may not receive. "Is she here?" she finally asks, deciding that, regardless of the answer, she needs to know. She has to know. Her sanity depends on it.

Quinn shakes her head, but despite the obvious no the action tells Rachel, there is a look of regret on Quinn's face. She doesn't have to ask what that means. She knows. She has a knack for reading people. Unfortunately. "She'll be back, won't she?" Her girlfriend nods.

"Yeah," she sighs. "She was asleep on the couch when I woke up. Your Dads told her that she should probably leave for a bit, but she asked if she could come back later. They told her they don't mind so long as she doesn't push you to talk and waits until you're ready."

"I hate her," Rachel says simply and she thinks she's telling the truth, but she isn't completely positive because it has been _three years _and people do change. But that doesn't matter, does it? Because the things her mom did to her, the things her mom allowed to be _done _to her are unforgivable.

"I know," Quinn whispers in response as she stands from the computer chair and starts walking towards the bed. She climbs onto the bed and crosses her legs Indian style, instantly taking both of Rachel's hands in her own. "You don't have to see her. Your Dads will listen to you if you tell them that you don't want her here."

Rachel's gaze hardens. "They won't, Hazel Eyes," she argues. "They invited her back without having the decency to even ask if that is what I want."

She feels guilty for speaking badly about her Dads. They have never been anything but sweet to her. They gave her a place to live, they gave her a sense of hope and of _family_, and there are not enough words in this world to describe how grateful she is for them, but right now, she is hurt and inviting her mother over is not going to make her feel any better. Or safer.

"Did she ever...?"

Rachel does not have to ask her to finish her question. She knows what Quinn is asking, and the answer is _no_. No, her mother never laid a hand on her. There had never been any physicality, but had she hurt Rachel? Yeah, she had because it had been her fault. She had dated the men, she had invited them over... and she had never believed her daughter.

She lets go of Quinn's hands, removing the blanket from her body and standing. She shivers. The weather has been getting colder and what she has noticed about this house is that the furnace does not work all too well.

"Never physically," is Rachel's vague response. "Want to tag along to Sam's? Kurt will be there. He wants me to meet Blaine and apparently, Noah wants to relive our 'star' moment at Sectionals."

She's changing the subject and she can see that it is bothering Quinn, but Quinn doesn't say anything. She feels terrible, but she is nowhere near ready to tell the whole of the story. What she told Quinn last night isn't even the half of it. There is so much more and the more is worse.

"Who's Blaine?" Quinn queries as she reaches down and picks her jeans up off the floor. She stands and puts them on as Rachel walks over to her closet and starts searching for something presentable to wear.

"A boy Kurt met when he was spying on the Warbles," Rachel answers her as she pulls a light pink sweater and black skirt from her closet, along with a pair of knees socks and her black flats.

"A boy, hmm?" Rachel pulls her sweater over her head and steps into her skirt before moving back to her bed. "Someone special?"

Rachel nods while straightening out her knee socks. "He denies any romantic interest whatsoever, but I happen to be intuitive and I am far from naive. Blaine is definitely someone Kurt considers to be very special," she replies knowingly, slipping her feet into her black flats.

She skips over to Quinn, _literally_, and links arms with her girlfriend. "Ready?"

"For the chance to tease Kurt mercilessly and make him blush while making myself look like the Head Bitch in Charge with a good heart?" Rachel laughs, her lips twitching as she fights back a grin. She nods.

"Of course!"

X

"Noah, I really don't-"

"Come on, babe, there is no harm in singing in the rain," Noah interrupts her, taking her by the hands and pulling her up out of her seat.

Sam, Santana, Kurt, and Blaine appear amused. Quinn, however, looks immensely annoyed, which is to be expected because she has made it clear that she does not appreciate Noah's attempts at "stealing" her girlfriend.

Though, such a scenario shall never happen because she is not interested in Noah, for several reasons. The main one being that he is a womanizing asshole.

"Quit calling my girl _babe_," her girlfriend snaps, glaring at Santana when she lets out a laugh.

"Rachel, I watched yours and Noah's performance of _Little Talks _at Sectionals and you guys did amazing. You should totally perform for us and Kurt and I have discovered that singing in the rain is not so horrible," Blaine chimes in which momentarily renders Rachel speechless because he has barely said three words since she arrived over half an hour earlier.

Of course, his lack of talking may have something to do with Quinn's nonstop questions and the crude sexual remarks she and Santana keep sending his and Kurt's way every ten seconds or less.

"Fine," Rachel huffs, crossing her arms over her chest and pouting. "But if I leave here and wake up deathly ill, I am blaming you and having my Dads mail you the hospital bill," she mock-threatens as she follows him out the back door, the others following behind her.

Sam takes both Santana and Quinn by the hand and pulls them out into the rain, twirling them around as Noah begins to play.

"_I don't like walking around this old and empty house_," Rachel sings, jumping off the porch and into the grass, the rain instantly soaking into her pink sweatshirt and chilling her to the bones, but it feels good against her skin as she dances around with her friends and sings along with Noah.

"_Some days I can't even trust myself. It's killing me to see you this way_," she sings and Quinn is mouthing the words with her as they dance with each other, and the look in her eyes is saying _so much _that Rachel feels like her heart is being squeezed and her chest feels so tight.

She wants to be okay. For Quinn, for her Dads, for Denise. She wants to trust and let someone all the way in because she does not want to spend the rest of her life shut off. Such a life is too lonely and she cannot survive alone.

She snaps out of her thoughts as Noah takes her away from Quinn, twirling her under his arm like he did on stage at Sectionals and she laughs, her mouth falling open and she just feels _lighter_. It amazes her that Noah can make her feel okay, that he can make her feel _free _because on her first day of school she had sworn to stay away from him. He had frightened her, the way he was so persistent about getting into her pants and the way he seemed to constantly be fighting to will her clothes off with his eyes.

But he's harmless. He's like a lion being tamed and she never thought she'd want his friendship, but she aches for his friendship like she aches for Quinn's heart. She wants to be like him and Santana to an extent (because while they are awesome and so free-spirited, she would rather not spend the rest of her life with no tact); she wants to not have a care in the world and to be free-spirited because she lost her spirit a long time ago and she feels like the glee club, especially Noah and Quinn and Santana, are returning it to her.

They are making her feel okay again.

* * *

"_Shut up, _you idiots," Rachel snaps playfully and Quinn rolls her eyes adoringly. Sam, Blaine, Santana, and Kurt keep insisting that they don't want to intrude on dinner with Rachel and her Dads and Rachel keeps having to repeat herself (something Quinn knows the tiny diva despises), saying that her Dads honestly don't mind and "_Samuel James Evans, you know this already." _

"Rach, I think Quinn is turning you into a shorter version of herself," Sam teases her and Quinn smacks him upside the head for his comment because _seriously? _

"I would watch your mouth if I were you, Sam, because I can ruin your reputation at McKinley _forever _and you know it," the blonde threatens, but she's only half-serious. He's merely annoying her and she wants to make it clear that she has the power.

Quinn is glad to see when they enter Rachel's that Rachel's mother is nowhere in sight. She can hear Rachel's Dads in the kitchen moving pots around and preparing dinner.

"Chill out, Ice Queen," Sam says, sticking his tongue out at her before plopping down on Rachel's couch. Rachel tells Kurt, Sam, Blaine, and Quinn that they can take a seat while she goes upstairs to fetch her little sister and most likely change out of her soaked clothing.

Quinn waltzes into the kitchen, where Rachel's Dads are now preparing salad. "Would you like some help?" she asks kindly. Yes, she is trying to suck up to the parents because she wants their approval, but she also likes Timothy and David Berry. They are the sweetest of any gay men she has ever had the pleasure of meeting, Kurt included, and they treat her with a kindness that not even her own parents have ever done.

At the thought of her parents, her smile fades. Timothy, the one she is convinced is always sweet, no matter what kind of day he is having, quirks a brow, seemingly worried. "Everything okay, sweetheart?"

"Just thinking about my parents," she tells him honestly because she trusts Rachel's Dads and knows that they do not judge and they only push whenever they feel pushing is necessary.

She walks over to David and offers him a smile before taking over the action of tossing the salad, adding balls of tomatoes and cut up carrots in the process. "Have you tried speaking to either of them since you left?"

She appreciates that he does not say _"since they made you leave" _because she does not like the reminder. She isn't going to lie, she has thought about talking to them, asking them why, but she likes to think of herself as an intelligent young woman and she _knows _why.

Her parents have spent their entire lives being told that homosexuality is wrong, that it should only be a man and a woman. She can _understand_, but she shouldn't have to accept their reasoning because she is their _daughter _and their only job is to love her. And they don't.

"No," she answers quietly, stepping away from the salad bowl. "It would be pointless, anyway. They won't talk to me. I betrayed them, after all."

Timothy tries to grab her arm to stop her from leaving the kitchen, but she is out of the kitchen before he can. Denise comes skipping down the stairs not even minutes later with Rachel in tow. Her girlfriend looks like she wants to hit her head off a wall and she smiles at the cuteness of her bemused expression.

"Rach is going to perform dinner theatre with me!" Denise exclaims happily, clapping her hands together as she jumps up and down in the center of the living room.

She hears Rachel groan and Timothy and David's laughter coming from the kitchen.

"Well, I guess I get to be happy for a little while," Rachel whispers as she wraps her arms around Quinn's waist.

Quinn raises an eyebrow. "Why a little while?"

"Denise said the stranger lady will be here in time for dinner," she tells Quinn and the blonde sighs sadly. She feels for her girlfriend, she does, and she wishes that she could do more.

"I'm here, okay?" Quinn assures her.

"Yeah, I know," Rachel concedes before kissing her sweetly and Quinn can hear the unspoken words about how they aren't going to talk about Rachel's mother for the rest of the evening until they absolutely have to.

She's okay with that. And she's only okay with it because at least Rachel will be happy for a few hours.

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **Yes, they had sex and it was an iffy decision, but it was mostly Rachel touching Quinn, not the other way around... for reasons that will be revealed later on. This story is slowly approaching its end. There are a few more things that need to be revealed and an issue Quinn needs to take care of before it can, but it'll get there.

Thanks for the reviews.


End file.
